


UNDER SUSPICION

by BellaGracie



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Peeta Mellark, Detective Katniss Everdeen, Detective Noir, F/M, Out of Character, Plutarch Father Figure, San Francisco, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 74
Words: 52,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaGracie/pseuds/BellaGracie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know anything about police procedure. Everything I know is gleaned from CSI, sorry! But I've always wanted to do something like this, just for fun. I even had to look up the words for the Miranda Warning, which is pretty standard stuff.</p><p>So, please excuse all the mistakes and maybe it isn't correct procedure that the suspect is made to undergo a psychiatric evaluation (but it sure was fun to make one up!).</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. SUSPECT A

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about police procedure. Everything I know is gleaned from CSI, sorry! But I've always wanted to do something like this, just for fun. I even had to look up the words for the Miranda Warning, which is pretty standard stuff.
> 
> So, please excuse all the mistakes and maybe it isn't correct procedure that the suspect is made to undergo a psychiatric evaluation (but it sure was fun to make one up!).

He was handsome, in that boyish type of way Katniss liked so much. Gale was broody when they brought him in.

"You've got that look," Gale told Katniss.

"What look?" Katniss said.

"You know, that I'm-so-horny look," Gate smirked.

Katniss hit him on his upper arm. Her hand ached for hours. "I'm not a perv," she said.

"That's how he does it," Gale said.

"Does what?" Katniss said.

"Gets women to trust him," Gale said. "I mean, just look at him. Sitting there."

Katniss looked. Mmm. Tight jeans and thick thighs. That earnest expression. Somehow, he feels Katniss. He looks at her now. Katniss blushes and turns her back. Unfortunately, Gale's seen it, too. The captured glances.

"You'd better ask to be pulled from this case, Catnip," he says.

"What? No. Why?"

"It's Cato.2. Not good."

"I'm a professional, Gale Hawthorne. And stop calling me Catnip. You make me sound about five years old."

*     *     *     *

It's a little past eight when Detective Katniss Everdeen finally pulls out the psychologist's assessment of Suspect A, aka Peeta Mellark.

It's a thin file: Suspect A only agreed to two sessions.

Katniss snorts at the psychologist's notes: Subject admitted to occasionally feeling "chaotic inside," has a habit of using work to ward off anxieties, has difficulty articulating what's on his mind when worried, furious when he can't find a favorite T-shirt . . .

As a teenager, subject was "unhappy, went through a phase of self-harming, suspicious of people for whom things have always gone well."

Katniss stops. Was this what Gale meant? That she and Suspect A had certain "affinities"? Was that why he was so reluctant to hand over the file?

Because it's there: the phase of "self-harming" ("Cutting," Katniss knows), the inherent distrust of "people for whom things have always gone well, dislikes carefree types."

Katniss shuts her eyes. Almost immediately, images bloom in her mind: Subject's arms, always covered by long-sleeved shirts. What would happen if she asked him to roll up his sleeves? What would she see?

She remembers how she used to cut and cut, how she began to savour the moment when little drops of blood began welling up. Even then, relief was rare.

How did Gale put it, during one of their early arguments: "withdrawn" and "hard to read." Now, "I don't mind much," Gale said. "I guess I've grown used to it."

Suddenly, she has a confused wish to help Suspect A. He resembles her, in her most damaged aspects. Now she has a chance to play a useful role in someone's life.

She turns to Suspect A's journal. He kept them in a safe in his bedroom. Two stacks of them, dating back over 10 years.

**Christmas Day, 2012:  Delly feels wrong. Or maybe it's that she feels a little too right. She is well-balanced, understanding, reliable, devoted -- this feels foreign and unearned, a pattern of frustration. Yet, I asked her to marry me and she accepted my proposal. I need to chase after more exciting others.**

**August 16, 2013: I care -- too much -- about the noises she makes while eating cereal or the silly magazines she insists on subscribing to. How logical that I find myself rejecting D's almost desperate attempts at intimacy -- she is too kind, too generous, too utterly predictable. For her part, she tells me she thinks she's married to a lunatic. She sounds scared. Scared and self-pitying.  
**

Katniss shuts the journal. She knows she will have to hunt down this Delly. Maybe this is something she can hand off to Gale. Her upper lip curls scornfully.

Suspect wasn't wearing a wedding ring. She hums thoughtfully as she prepares for bed.

*     *     *     *

"Hey, Catnip," Gale says, snapping Katniss out of her reverie. She'd gone to Working Girl Café for lunch, her go-to place when she wants to avoid Gale. He claims all the women there are "so butch."

He tosses a file on the table in front of her and looks at the menu behind the counter. "So, the pastrami any good? Or should I go for the Mandarin chicken salad?"

"What are you doing here?" Katniss scowls.

"Wife checks out," Gale tells her, pulling up a chair next to her. "There's a marriage license. Her maiden name was Delilah Deavers."

Gale's even managed to snag a photo of the woman: flowing blonde hair, green eyes, a smile that lights up her whole face.

"Delilah?" Katniss almost snorts out her Coke.

"Spoken like someone who's named after a potato plant," Gale says.

"I was NOT named after a potato plant," Katniss hisses.

"Whatever. She's out of country. Re-married and moved to Paris two years ago."

"Think she'll have heard of the case?" Katniss asks.

"Hmm," Gale says, focusing intently on his kombucha. "Maybe. Hard to say."

"It's been on the nightly news for at least a month now."

"Yeah, but that doesn't necessarily mean Paris shows any interest . . . "

"I bet she knows," Katniss says.

*     *    *     *

Suspect A worked for the Ritz Carlton on Mission Street. Miss Delilah Deavers managed a chichi women's clothing store on Union Square that sold over-priced dresses and cardigans. Delilah dropped by his hotel one day, un-announced, and caught him in the penthouse suite with Johanna Hind, lead singer of the punk band Gemini. She aimed a fruit knife at his head and it grazed his left ear. The King-sized bed showed clear evidence of sexual activity (Katniss scowled) -- sperm on bedsheets, etc.

Ugh. Katniss presses fists into her eyes. Again, she stayed up all night, just reading Suspect A's files. She's sure she looks terrible. And today, she and Gale are finally going to ask Suspect A some questions.

*     *     *     *

"What happened to you?" Gale asks.

"What do you mean?" Katniss says, trying to balance her coffee with the files she stayed up all night reading.

"You look like you got run over by a truck."

"Thanks. Thanks for that."

"Are you ready?"

Katniss nods, and she and Gale enter the room together. Gale takes a chair against the wall. Suspect A is already seated, waiting at the table. Katniss moves slowly to take the chair across from him.

He's wearing a fine grey suit. Damn. It just makes the blue of his eyes seem bluer.

Katniss takes her time sitting down. Then she adjusts her earpiece and recites: "Mr. Mellark, you are here to answer some questions regarding the murder of Eva DeLancey. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You were advised that you may need a lawyer present."

Mellark smiles. "I don't need a lawyer. I'm happy to cooperate with you."

Katniss looks at the table. Right. Okay. She wasn't expecting that.

"On the -- " she hesitates. She can feel Gale's eyes boring into her and straightens up. "Could you tell us where you were on the night of Tuesday, July 16, 2015?"

"Sure," Mellark says, smiling again. "I was at IKEA. Shopping for a new bookcase."

"Which IKEA?" Katniss says.

"Oh, the one in Emeryville. It's the closest one to my apartment," he says.

"So you went to IKEA. What time approximately did you leave?" Katniss asks.

"About eight. I remember waiting till I was sure there wouldn't be so much traffic over the Bay Bridge."

"And then where did you go?"

"Home," Mellark says, showing a little surprise. "I had work the next day."

*     *     *     *

Two hours later, they let Suspect A go. Katniss is so covered in sweat she can't stand it. She can smell her own stink. She's almost to the women's room when Gale stops her with a hand on her arm.

"What?" she snarls, yanking her arm away.

"That wasn't too bad," Gale says. "Why are you so upset?"

"Shhh! Lower your voice!" Katniss hisses, looking around in alarm. Too late! She's almost sure Mellark -- Suspect A -- has heard him. Since he's still standing in the corridor, just a few yards away. Looking at her.

Katniss addresses him: "Can I help you?"

"I always get turned around in these places," Mellark says, with a shrug. "Can you point me in the direction of the exit?"

Katniss glares. "It's that way," she says, pointing.

*     *     *     *

The good thing is, that night Katniss is so tired that she just falls into bed. She falls asleep after a few minutes. When she next opens her eyes, there's sunlight coming through the curtains. She looks at the clock: it's 7 a.m.

She flips on the TV and drags herself off the bed, listening vaguely to some chatter about ski resorts and snow conditions in Tahoe.

She's walking to her car when she hears him:

"Something happened to you as a child, didn't it?"

She whips around, and he's there, right hand in the pocket of his (if she had to guess: designer) jeans, slouched against a pillar of the underground garage, giving her that smile.

Katniss hates, really hates, the fact that the first thought that pops into her head when she sees him is: _Are you still fucking Johanna?_

She almost says "Hello," as if he were an old friend who she's unexpectedly bumped into. Here. In her parking garage. She has to remind herself that this is not, and can never be, an ordinary conversation. Because he, Peeta Mellark of the killer smile, is Suspect A.

She tries to tell herself, borrowing a word from her therapist, it's _transference_. Because she's lonely. Because she's enraged. Because it's been two months and three weeks since Cato broke up with her. And he looks just like Suspect A. Blonde hair, blue eyes.

 

 

 


	2. KATNISS vs. GALE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter 2! You asked for it, you got it!
> 
> Dark, dark as dark. Sorry. You've been forewarned.
> 
> Cato's just a master of trash talk. He's not really a you-know, THAT.
> 
> Thanks to sixela872 for pointing out an inconsistency about Gale. I worked on this chapter some more this morning. I decided to throw in more in the scene in the broom closet!

"So, what do you think?" Katniss says to her supervisor.

"Mm," Plutarch says, looking distractedly over the piles of paper on his desk.

Katniss has known Plutarch a long time. He was there for her when her father was killed during a routine traffic stop for an expired registration tag. Turned out the man driving the late-model Sentra had just robbed a local Wells Fargo. Katniss's father never stood a chance: shot twice at point blank range, he was dead within minutes.

Plutarch had attended the funeral: he was one of her father's closest friends. He'd kept his arm over Katniss's shoulder the whole time. There was no question in her mind that she would follow in her father's footsteps. If only to avenge her father's murder.

And she had done it: barreled her way through the Academy, aced all the tests, outperformed everyone on the obstacle course. Nothing, however, had prepared her for the hot breath on her ear. She didn't have to turn her head to know who it was: the hulking blonde training officer, Cato. _Everdeen, you're going to get raped._

Katniss didn't flinch. But it was hard to get Cato's voice out of her head, even now.

Had Cato known? Of course he had known. The spidery scars over Katniss's legs, just above her knees. She'd caught him staring at her legs, once or twice.

Cato didn't try starting anything with Katniss until after the training. _He's done this before_ , Katniss remembers thinking. _He knows exactly how far to push the boundaries._

She blinks and tries to push the memory away. She leans forward and repeats, loudly, "What do you think?"

"You've always been one of my best detectives, Katniss," Plutarch says. "Top of your class at the Academy. Got the masters in Social Psychology while a rookie. Don't ruin my faith in you now."

When Katniss only stares, Plutarch continues: "Gale told me about your -- recent _distractions_."

*     *     *     *

Plutarch's office door is yanked open.

"-- cannot do this to me!" Everyone in the office raises their heads and looks at the door.

Katniss stalks out, her dark eyes flashing. Gale is quick to run interference.

"Not now," she grits out.

"What'd he do, take away your lollipop?" Gale says and chuckles loudly when Katniss glares at him.

Katniss comes to a full stop and rounds on him. "You are a nasty, nasty, evil, gutless -- "

"Okay," Gale says, tugging her quickly through the nearest doorway. Which turns out to be the door to a broom closet. "What'd he do? Spill!" 

Katniss crosses her arms over her chest. "What do you _think_?"

"He put you over his knee and spanked you?"

"How dare you! How dare you! I can't believe you told him about Cato!"

"What? I didn't tell him about Cato!"

"Oh yeah, then how'd he know about the -- the --" she stops, decides she shouldn't go into it. Changes tack: "You know Plutarch and I have always had this kind of father-daughter relationship, ever since my father died. And you decided to manipulate it. You, of all people! I thought you were my friend, Gale! Friends don't go behind each other's backs and -- "

"Will you just cut to the chase? What did Plutarch say?"

"According to his philosophy, I'm too naive to be put on the case. In fact, he says he's going to give you a new partner!"

"Yeah?" Gale says, the smirk dropping from his face. "Who?"

"Sorry to break your heart, Gale, but it's not going to be female."

"Really?" Gale says.

The door opens suddenly and Gale and Katniss cringe. "What are the two of you doing in here?" Marvel yells, with a wide grin on his face. "This isn't Truth or Dare time, is it?"

*     *     *     *     *

Katniss doesn't want to read anymore but, frankly, his journals are like a drug:

**September 7, 2013: Good listeners are like a drug. And I'm a very very good listener. You have to have a high degree of confidence to be a good listener. That's what Johanna tells me, anyway.  
**

**October 18, 2013: Delly says it embarrasses her that she's always the one asking for sex. She says it makes her feel dependent and needy. Just one more way in which she feels I control her. I tell her that I find it refreshing, that she's so candid about her needs. I always satisfy her when she asks. She starts to cry. I think our relationship is ludicrous.  
**

Is that so, Mr. Suspect A? Katniss thinks. Unconsciously, she crosses her arms over her chest. Suddenly, her room feels very warm. Even though it's November, she decides to crack open her window. Even then, she stays awake.

She thinks of the women in his journals. There are some who are very childlike. But she is sure they are all at least in their 20s: college graduates, with jobs. He is smart in that way.

She thinks of the murder victim. Eva. Katniss has to remind herself to name the dead woman. Otherwise, it's like she'll be killed twice over: once when her life was taken, a second time when she became Case # xx-0xxx.

The first time Katniss saw Eva was on an autopsy table. She had paper-white skin, but that might just have been post-mortem. She had thick, long red hair. There was a three-inch scar on the right side of her neck. What?

 "Sweet and fragile" was how her fellow teachers described her. Taught second grade for two years. How would Suspect A have met her? Her school was on Fulton, clear across the city from the Ritz Carlton. Maybe one night at a bar. Saturday night. To celebrate a special occasion. A birthday, perhaps.

People tend to be nicer to childlike women. At least, they are, in Katniss's opinion. Look at Madge, Gale's ex-wife. Promiscuous, vulnerable, Gale once described her to Katniss as "pure."

Katniss, on the other hand, is not. Definitely not pure. She and Cato . . .

When she hooked up with Cato, she was a 21-year-old virgin, scared and clumsy. He was aggressive. Too aggressive.

Katniss imagines Mellark -- _Suspect A_ \-- sidling up to Eva at a bar. Eva smiling at him, encouraging his advances. He IS handsome, there's no denying. Even just in jeans and a long-sleeved henley. Those powerful-looking thighs . . .

Katniss swallows and tries to put the thoughts out of her mind. Her building has a 24-hour gym, thank God. An hour later, she's panting, pressing an ice-cold bottle of water against the back of her neck. She relishes the feel of the cold aganst her sweat-slick skin. Her mind clears. Maybe, she thinks, maybe there's still a chance she can persuade Plutarch to put her back on the case. Gale has been crawling around the department like a whipped puppy, giving her remorseful glances. Good. Maybe he can talk to Plutarch, too.

She stretches and stands, giving a yawning moan of pleasure at the feel of the stretch in her back. She doesn't remember there being anyone else around -- it's almost midnight, after all -- but suddenly she's aware of a heavy tread, off in the corner where the weights are. Hyper-alert, she whirls around and stares at the place where she thought the sound came from. It's suddenly quiet. Eerily quiet.

She waits a beat or two longer, then shrugs.

 _Cool it, Everdeen_ , she thinks. _This case is starting to give you the jitters._

She walks slowly to the elevators, ears pricked up, listening. The old Katniss would have gone back in there, for sure. She'd have sniffed around every corner until she was satisfied those sounds she'd heard weren't the sound of a man lurking out of sight.

But since Cato, she's a new Katniss. She hates the thought. Suddenly -- _fuck!_ \-- the bad thoughts are back.

A low voice says, "What's your _game_ , Everdeen?"

_It's HIM!_

Katniss whirls again, a response bubbling on her lips.

"You're protecting someone," he says wryly. His sweat-drenched T-shirt clings to him. _Damn, damn, damn him!_

She's vibrating, a coiled spring of energy, ready to flee or pounce. _  
_

"I'm going to have to talk to the super about improving security around here," she says, and turns. _Good girl, that's good, just keep walking._

The elevator doors ding open. Just before getting in, she spares a quick glance over her shoulder. He's draped a towel over his head but she can still see those blue eyes fastened on her, sizing her up.

_Does she turn him on? Does he think she's hot?_

She takes her time in the shower, focusing on her nipples and between her legs.

She doesn't tell Gale about the encounter with Suspect A. Why should she anyway? It would just complicate her life; It's annoying the way Gale insists on acting like her protector. But they are partners, and isn't that what partners do, protect each other?

Katniss shivers, basking in the feeling that she is being watched. By _him_. She doesn't need protecting. Of course not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what I'm really trying to do here is work up to writing some hot Katniss/Peeta love-making. I've never written this intensely before, so hopefully it won't come off as -- terrible. I'm working up to it, but don't know how or when it's going to look convincing. Because, well, okay, this is definitely NOT a realistic detective story. But it's Peeta so in my head he is of course irresistible to Katniss.


	3. A BODY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get these little flashes sometimes . . .
> 
> I had to tweak Chapter 2 ending a little, after I wrote this. The part about Katniss keeping things from Gale.
> 
> I felt she was getting a little too swoon-y about Suspect A, LOL.

Plutarch calls a meeting. A dozen detectives sit around a long table in a room that smells like it hasn't been cleaned in a year. Katniss stalks to a window and cracks it open. Frigid December air blows in.

"Whoa! We're all gonna freeze in here! You know how long these meetings take," someone says.

Katniss raises a fist, index and pinkie extended. There's a ripple of laughter.

Plutarch walks in, followed close behind by Glimmer.

Glimmer's penchant for chandelier earrings bugs Katniss. She looks between the other woman and Plutarch, thinks (not for the first time) _Do they have a thing?_

Maybe she's just annoyed because Gale told her he thinks Glimmer is hot. "She has an overbite," Katniss told him. "That's exactly what I mean," Gale said. "I love a woman with an overbite." He laughed; Katniss scowled. "She's too skinny," Katniss insisted. "Good butt, though," Gale said. "She has armpit hair. Gross." Gale protests, "She does _not_. You're just jealous. Besides, where would you have seen her armpit hair?" "In the pool, idiot," Katniss said. Then adds, "Duh." Her conversations with Gale always go this way. But he's her friend. They've known each other for years. He's the only man she trusts, other than Plutarch. For God's sake, he's even gone on late-night tampon runs for her.

Katniss looks around the table. From what she can see of his arms, Marvel might have some new ink. He and Katniss used to go to the same tattoo parlor. Katniss hasn't been in almost a year, though. The most recent one got added when she was still with Cato. It snakes across her belly, just below her navel: _Living is easier with your eyes closed._ Lately she's been wondering whether it's worth the trouble to have it removed. _  
_

The meeting commences. Katniss is bored within 10 minutes, starts doodling.

*     *     *     *

"Catnip!" Gale comes barging in. She's not his partner anymore, why should she care? She keeps on chewing on her nails as she looks over a file at her desk. She's wearing track pants and an over-sized sweater: the sweater might have been the same one she wore yesterday because -- is that a ketchup stain on the sleeve? She thought she washed it out yesterday. But, really, who cares? She can't wait to get home so she can crawl into bed and watch all the previous season's episodes of "Ripper Street." She'll fantasize about going to London, about staying in a little bed-sit off one of those leafy squares . . .

"Outside Working Girl Café? Dead body."

She's up like a shot. Who is she kidding? She cares. Too damn much.

The thing about a body is: it's almost never at rest. When it's alive, that is. When it's dead, as this body most certainly is, it is completely, completely still. Which is wrong because -- it's face down on the sidewalk. At 5 p.m. On Bush Street. People are still walking by as Katniss bends over the body. There's an eddy of voices around her. She hardly hears.

The woman's neatly dressed. She works in an office. One shoe's off. The one she's still wearing is a Nine West. Stockings. Black pencil skirt. Button-down shirt. Fine silk scarf, blue.

Why? Katniss feels a kind of anger come over her. Woman's dark-haired. Could have been her.

It's almost midnight when she and Gale finish up, but she feels she can't leave the body alone. It's lonely, it's missed. Her phone -- her phone would give them clues but it's not on her. Strange, Katniss thinks.

The woman has her Clipper Card in one curled fist, and she would have made it to the #45 Stockton if she'd just managed to stay alive for 10 more minutes. She might even have scared the attacker off, if she'd managed to get to the stop, which usually has a long line of people waiting at this time of the afternoon.

Katniss has to remind herself what day of the week it is. Oh, right. Wednesday. She was just thinking about that before Gale came rushing in. Wednesdays are good. They're practically the weekend.

Afterwards, when things have calmed down a bit, and the body's been taken away, Gale points at Katniss's sweater. "You got her blood on you," he says.

Katniss looks down at herself. "Oh, that?" she says, distractedly. "Ketchup stain. Yesterday."

Gale looks confused.

*     *     *     *     *

Peeta -- No, _Suspect A_ \-- lives in one of the new-ish apartment buildings off the Embarcadero. It's not the ugliest building, but it's mostly an expanse of steel and glass that Katniss thinks is part of the reason San Francisco is losing its charm.

She's been here a few times already. Why can't she stop thinking of him? She hasn't seen him since that night in her building's gym. It's been almost a month. And tonight she feels so lonely. So -- lost, really.

It's quiet on the street. She sighs, starts up her car, peels away from the curb. What was she expecting?

_Get a grip, Katniss._

The next night and the next night and the next night, and sometimes mornings, too, and then she sees him. It's a Sunday, early. He looks sleepy, his skin still hot from yesterday's sun, the blonde sat in his lap, out on the pool deck, for a few hours. Katniss watched until her eyes ached. They were the first to show, hoods pulled up against the morning chill.

His body is familiar now: nothing is concealed in his swimsuit. It's thrilling to watch him dress, watch him obscure muscle and limb. And then Suspect A is dry, and ready, his arms wrapped in long sleeves -- yes, she did see the marks. They are there. Apparently he doesn't care enough to cover them up. Except for when he's talking to the police. He doesn't bother parting his hair. He (and often a she) walk across the damp grass to the building entrance. Katniss watches until she can't see him anymore, not even a blur moving behind glass windows.

*     *     *     *

There's a pool on the top floor of the Police Building. If she can, Katniss tries to get there early. Ads line the walls: Colgate, Pepsi, Tylenol, Berkeley Farms. She swims and swims, swims until she feels a familiar burn in the muscles of her back. _Good_. She likes pain.

Sometimes Gale appears, stands over the pool, looking at her. Usually, he only shows up after she's limp with fatigue. She pulls herself from the pool with difficulty, feeling her arms and legs boneless. She pulls on a T-shirt over her damp suit, smiles at him but only if she feels like it. He hands her a towel, which she usually ignores. He'll tug on her braid; she hates that, swipes at his hand. The tugging of the braid is like him calling her Catnip -- a form of ownership.

They used to get along better, she and Gale. She remembers trips with their families, to Monterey or Pismo. She and Gale lying side by side on beach towels or splashing in the waves. The sun burns her arms, her shoulders.

Sometimes, the two of them just stood in the waves, feeling the water push gently around them.

And then, the drive home with their families, their shoulders burning.

Her father was still alive then. Katniss still had a family.

She remembers Peeta's -- _Suspect A's_ \-- words to her: What's your game, Everdeen?

"What do you think it is?" she said to him.

He stares and then says, slowly, as if disappointed, "Nothing much. You don't have anything."

The year ends -- Christmas party, hurrah! New Year's, she opts out. Let's just say, she can't wait for the tomorrow, whatever that is.

She covers her table with a white sheet, makes herself a New Year's dinner, lights two candles, lifts a glass in silent toast, wonders what Suspect A looks like in bed. Does he sleep under the sheets? Does he sleep naked? _Does he sleep alone?_

*     *     *    *

Gale says Plutarch's taking them all out to dinner. "Come with?" he says. He still sounds contrite, even though it's been four months.

"Which restaurant?" Katniss asks.

Gale names it and Katniss says, "I think I'll pass the fancy, expensive spaghetti dinner."

"Plutarch's treat. It's his birthday."

"I'll think about it."

She goes by herself to the Beach Chalet, stares out over the water.

Next to the ocean, perspective shifts. Little groups of people walk along the sand. She hears them whisper, laugh. _Wonder what he's doing now?_

Gale texts that they're going for after-dinner drinks. Katniss points her feet homeward.


	4. GHOSTS

He's there, wearing a navy parka and faded jeans. What is he doing here?

Land's End, where the hiking trail leads uphill, to the Legion of Honor. If there weren't such a fog, she'd be able to see all the way to the Golden Gate bridge. She was thinking of waiting for a break -- it could happen, this is San Francisco after all.

"Did you know this used to be a cemetery?" he asks her.

Suspect A curls his upper lip. He has a cruel mouth, Katniss thinks. A very cruel mouth. But his eyes . . .

"There are 150 bodies buried on the hillside."

Katniss spins to look at him head-on. "Sure, they just left the bodies here and built the museum right on top of it."

"Yeah, they did."

She spins away from him and starts walking.

"Why do you care so much, detective?" he yells after her. She doesn't turn.

*     *     *     *

She's having dinner that night -- butter on toasted bread, herbal tea with a bit of cream -- and flips to the news. It's the first news item: a body being carried out of an apartment building -- is that Bush Street? Right above the tattoo parlor? -- on a gurney. She raises the volume. Every hair on her arms is standing.

"Paramedics found the body of Nicola Holland, 29, with serious head injuries when they were called to an apartment above a tattoo parlor on Bush Street. A couple who were returning home from a party at 3 a.m. heard what sounded like a woman calling for help from the apartment. Paramedics were unable to revive Ms. Holland and she was pronounced dead at the scene."

Her heart is pounding, painfully loud. Could it be him? The newscast continues:

"A 32-year-old man who shared the apartment is being held for questioning. He is being detained under section X of the Criminal Justice Act which allows police to hold a suspect for up to 24 hours."

Katniss's sigh of relief is so profound, it disturbs her. Why should she feel such relief? Why should she even care that it's not Suspect A?

Katniss dresses for work and walks into the station at half past eight. Gale's there already.

"Geez, Catnip, up all night again?" he says.


	5. CAUSE OF DEATH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman was found dead on the street two chapters ago. Investigation on-going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a doctor, so I'm just inventing what seems a plausible cause of death. You know what, parts of this story will not make any sense at all because I just want K & P to get together, as quickly as possible, lol.

"They determined cause of death on the Jane Doe," Gale tells her. He'd had another partner for -- oh, about a week. Then Plutarch had relented. He and Katniss were a team again. Much to Gale's relief. 

"Which Jane Doe?" Katniss says, irritably. She hates the use of terms like Jane Doe. She actually thought they'd managed to attach proper names to all the dead bodies this week.

"The one we found face down on the sidewalk, Wednesday," Gale says, pulling a chair up to her desk and straddling it, with his long, muscular arms draped over the back.

This is a very distracting position. Basically, Gale is doing "the tease" again -- has the talk about her really been so bad?

"So what was it?" she snaps, trying her best to keep her eyes on his face. It's not that much of a struggle. She already _knows_ what's down there, and it's nothing compared to --

"Talked to the coroner. She was on a cocktail of prescription drugs," Gale says.

"What?" Katniss says.

"Yup. Strange, but there it is. 38, lived alone, took Oxycontin, Naproxen, one other I forget, think it was anti-epileptic. They were all present in her system. She just stopped breathing."

"So," Katniss says, frowning. "She managed almost a full day's work, even with all those drugs running through her system, left a little early, then crashed just before she got to her bus stop."

"Apparently."

This almost breaks Katniss's heart. Almost.

"What about the blood?"

"Oh, yeah, she hit her head on something when she went down."

"So has her family been told?"

"Zopiclone."

"What?"

"That was the last drug."

Katniss knows it. She takes it herself. It's like diazepam, or like Valium.

"Contact the doctor who gave her all these prescriptions?"

"Not yet, but we will."

"Was she in some kind of program?"

"What do you mean?" Gale asks.

"Some of those -- drugs you mentioned. They're anti-anxiety."

Gale gives her a long look. Katniss gets up abruptly. "Where are you going?" Gale asks.

"I'm going to speak to the coroner."

"What for? I just told you her findings."

Katniss doesn't answer.

*     *     *     *

Coroner Annie Cresta is petite, fragile-looking. But she's anything but. Patiently, even though she just gave the report to Gale, she summarises what she noted: "All were legit prescriptions, by the way. Each of those drugs was at an acceptable dosage. But, cumulatively, they had a depressive effect on her nervous system, which affected her breathing. The cause of death was central nervous system repression."

Katniss is back at her desk when she begins to wonder, absently, what happened to the woman's phone?

*     *     *     *

Katniss sits on her tattered living room couch, waiting for the evening news. She does this every night -- it's something _normal_ people do. But watching the evening news is also when she does a lot of her best _thinking_ , go figure.

If she were a _normal_ woman, like her mother, she would have a house, and a garden, and plant flowers. She would have children.

Someone knocks loudly at her door.

_Shit!_

She bangs her knee on the coffee table.

"Who is it?" she yells.

She bets it's the super. He doesn't like her, for some reason. But he wouldn't bang on her door at -- she glances at her watch -- 8:58 p.m. Or would he? She fumbles for the remote -- it's fallen  on the floor -- and mutes the TV. God does she hate the super. Most of the time he bangs on her door when he thinks -- guesses -- he'll have the chance to catch her in her gym clothes, her tank top barely covering her midriff. She considers ignoring him but he'll just keep banging. She gets up and walks to the door.

"Is it the recycling bin again?" she yells. "I'm sorry, I thought I did everything right this week. And, um --" She's at the door but yells through it, still reluctant to open it -- "can't this wait till tomorrow? I was just about to get into bed." (Pathetic, Everdeen!)

Finally, after one last check to make sure her shirt is pulled down and nothing is showing, she pulls open the door. Too late she realizes she didn't even check through the peephole. The man staring at her, with a grey hoodie and grey sweatpants slung low -- dangerously low -- on his hips is none other than --

"What are you doing here?" she asks fiercely. Her piece is on the coffee table. And it's too late, of course, because Suspect A is there, right there, his chest only inches from hers, and she can almost feel him. Almost. She feels that sick want. Trouble is, he can feel it, too.

"You usually open the door to strange men?" he asks.

 _Asshole_! She tries to dropkick him but he's too quick, just pushes his hips straight against hers and she's so buzzed all she can do is gasp. He has both hands behind her, gripped in one hand. She throws her full weight against him but he doesn't budge. His other hand pushes a strand of hair off her face.

"I've been watching you for a while, detective," he says. "You're not very attentive after you get into your building. I left my hand prints all over your window there, and you didn't even notice."

"Why are you following me?" Katniss grits out.

"Ah-ah-ah," Suspect A says, with a smirk. "The question should be: why are _you_ following _me_? I saw you eyeing me and my blonde friend the other day. Almost went all the way with her just because I knew it would get a rise out of you. But, on second thought, I didn't feel like slumming."

Slowly, he releases her. Katniss tries to get the jump on him but he steps back, quickly. She knows she can't get him. He's too strong, and she's unarmed. She glares at him and rubs her wrists.

"You're a suspect in a murder investigation. I can haul you in at any time. Any time!" she hisses.

"You're cute when you're mad," he says. Quickly, he heads for the elevators. Katniss dives back into her apartment. She's going to get her piece and knock the asshole out, once and for all.


	6. ROCKING THE LOOK

"Wha'cha reading, Catnip?" Gale says, sidling over and leaning over her desk.

Katniss stretches out a hand. "Back off," she says.

"Ouch," Gale says. "You're hurting my feelings." He grows silent. Suddenly, he grabs her wrist. "What's this?"

Too late, Katniss realizes. Her wrists are braceleted by the results of her run-in with Suspect A the other night.

His hands were so strong.

When Katniss takes a little too long to answer, Gale asks, "How did you get these?"

"New instructor at the gym," Katniss says. "He got a little rough."

Gale narrows his eyes. "Rough? I'd say that's an understatement."

"Why are you bothering me?" Katniss hisses. "Big tits don't do it for you anymore?"

"Ah! Good one," Gale says. "Anything more on Suspect A?"

_Damn! The guy must have ESP!_

"Nope. Now leave me alone. I've got to finish reading this very important article."

"On what?" Gale says, leaning over her shoulder. Too close. She hates guys who use cologne. She tilts her head and snaps the newspaper against her chest. She can see Gale reaching out a hand to grab it. Of course.

_See, Katniss, this is why you need to start reading the news off your cell, like any normal person in San Francisco. Print is for dinosaurs. And you are most definitely --_

"It's about how Google is the terrorist's friend," Katniss says, standing and taking a step back from her desk.

"Ah!" Gale says, a look of clear disappointment on his face. "And since Google is about half the city, that makes San Francisco a sitting duck?"

"No," Katniss says. "That makes _you_ an annoying asshole." She thinks of heading for the women's room but decides that's not a good idea because Gale is still watching her and she doesn't want him to think she's upset. Well, she is, but she can't show him how much. She needs this job. This job is her life. She has to show she can handle it. Every police precinct has its share of assholes.

She pulls her sleeves down over her wrists, frowns, and pretends to be reading again. Gale wanders away from her desk -- _but he's still keeping an eye on her, she can feel it_ \-- She needs this job. Shit, she _deserves_ this job. Highest grades in the Academy, trounced everyone in hand to hand. She can't handle a sexy suspect? Wait, did she just use the word _sexy_?

*     *    *     *

The next time she sees Peeta Mellark -- check, _Suspect A_ \-- he's wearing a white button-down that tapers snugly over his waist, and a skinny black tie that happens to rest right above his, uh --

_Ugh. He really rocks this look. Focus, Katniss. Focus!_

_"_ Mr. Mellark, could you tell us -- me and Detective Hawthorne, here -- what you were doing on Tuesday the 12th of March?"

"I thought we'd been over this, Detectives," Mr. Mellark says, leaning forward slightly, which makes Katniss hyper-aware of . . .

_Those broad shoulders, ugh._

"One more time, please, if you wouldn't mind," Gale says.

_Thank you, Gale. Thank you. I owe you one._

"Well," Mellark says, leaning back in his chair. "I was walking my stiff."

"Your -- what?" Katniss bursts out.

"My stiff. It's a kind of dog."

"I see."

"Like a mastiff."

"Gocha." Katniss's face is pink.

They're going to go over this footage later and she'll be the laughing stock of the department. "I was walking my stiff." Classic.

*     *     *     *

"What the fuck was that, Katniss?" Gale says after, his face stormy.

"What the fuck was what?" she snaps back.

She knows what the fuck was what. She's a mess.

"That twirling of the hair around your finger. That biting of your lip."

"What? How dare you! Fuck off."

"No, I will not fuck off. You were flirting with the suspect in there. It was clear to me, and it sure as hell was clear to _him_. You need to take yourself off this investigation. Right now."

"You know what, Gale? I'm done with this conversation."

*     *     *     *

Katniss knows why Gale was so pissed off. And it's not because she was giving Suspect A the come-on (or maybe she was?). He walked into the precinct wearing those pointy Italian leather shoes with laces -- what did Gale call them once? Ferra-fuck-o? And his Oxford button-down, so white and crisp, like he'd just tried it on at Brooks Brothers. That $500 plain white shirt. Oh yeah, that's why Gale was so pissed. That's why Gale wants her to help him nail Suspect A.

_He doesn't wear cologne. I hate men who wear cologne._

Gale hasn't asked her again about the bruises circling her wrists. Good. Let him think she has some sort of sick fetish. Handcuffs. Yeah, she likes those.

_He could be guilty. There is that possibility._

Katniss glances at her watch. 9:25 p.m. He wouldn't show up again, would he? That would be crazy. He knows she'd be prepared, this time. At the same time, she can't help feeling a slight anticipation. That buzz of adrenaline. It really makes the minutes go fast.

Just before midnight, she decides that he's not going to show, it was a one-time stunt, just a way of showing her he can move around with ease and unpredictability. Just a way of keeping her off-balance.

As she crawls into bed, she thinks of him removing his shirt, that crisp white shirt. She knows what's underneath because she's watched him by his pool.

*     *     *     *

The next day, Gale's still talking about it. "Jesus, did you see the car that motherfucker drives?"

"Gale, could you give it a rest?" Katniss says. She just wants to eat her sandwich in peace. Is that too much to ask?

As soon as she gets home, she shrugs out of her uniform and puts on a T shirt, yoga pants, and sneakers. She's going to run. She steps outside her building: it's not cold, it's not warm. It's just San Francisco. Two homeless people in a tent on her left. She goes right. She runs five blocks on a flat, decides she needs to push herself, so she goes up and up. The burn in her thighs is punishing. She likes it. When she reaches California, she stops and leans over, panting hard. Sweat drips on the sidewalk just beneath her face.

_Good. That's good._

She gets that feeling. Someone is watching her. How does she know? She straightens quickly, looks around. But she doesn't see him. She doesn't know if that makes her happy or sad. She heads back to her building.

Then she sees him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Peeta doesn't show up at Katniss's apartment again. (K is disappointed; so are we). 
> 
> But that's what it's all about, right -- anticipation!


	7. CALL ME PEETA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I was fanning *myself* because the image of Suspect Peeta in running leggings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now Katniss has probably broken every rule in the police handbook. (Does she even care?) She's somewhat of a rebel, our Katniss!
> 
> And Peeta, Suspect A, is just so, so magnetic. Because he sees what she can't: she's just as damaged as he is.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" he says, coming up to her. Cocky as you please. No, no, not cocky. Not -- But she can't help her eyes trailing down his body and he's wearing -- what the heck are _those_? _Running tights?_ They're obscene. Flashing his package, which is lovely, but -- with difficulty, Katniss drags her eyes up to his face, and those impossibly blue eyes, and he's smirking at her.

_Yeah, me and half of San Francisco got a pretty good view of your package there, Mr. --_

"Please, call me Peeta. With the number of things you already know about me, I feel we should be on first-name basis, don't you?"

He's still standing there. Hands on his hips. _Those hands! Those hips! Eyes on his face, please, Katniss._

She pretends she needs her cell, pats around her hips, wonders why her pants don't have pockets, remembers too late that they're _yoga pants_ , catches him following her gestures, that smile still on his lips --

"Excuse me," she says brusquely. "You're in my way."

He doesn't budge. "You still haven't answered my question," he says. The smirk's dropped off his face. He looks grave. Worried, even.

Stop it, Katniss. The man is a _suspect_. In a murder investigation. The evidence against him still isn't enough, but it's only a matter of time, Gale says. He's guilty and I know it, says Gale's voice in her head. He's done it before and he'll do it again . . .

Two can play at this game, _Peeta_.

She mimics his stance, putting both hands on her hips. She stands up a little straighter, even tilts her pelvis slightly towards him. She feels a small twinge of triumph when his eyes trail down her body, just as hers did over his, moments ago. His eyes snap almost immediately back to her face. There's irritation in them. He probably didn't expect that. And he doesn't like being caught unawares.

_Him and me, we're so much alike._

"And what makes you think I _don't_ have a boyfriend?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Please. Don't insult my intelligence. You're not happy. Clearly a date with your vibrator isn't enough."

_The nerve!_

If she were wearing her favorite chunky boots, she'd be able to give him a good kick, right where it hurts. "You still haven't cleared yourself, so excuse me if I don't feel I have to answer any of your questions."

"I may be -- cruel. I've been called that, by my ex-wife primarily. But I don't beat women. And I certainly don't murder them."

_I believe you. But I'd die before I let you know that._

A breeze picks up. He smells as she does: of exertion. And sweat. And desire.

"I'm sorry, why do you even bother? If I were anyone other than a homicide detective, we wouldn't even be talking," she says.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, which allows her to become fixated on his eyelashes.

"I suppose you're right," he says finally. "There are advantages to being a suspect after all."

She says "Excuse me" again and this time he doesn't try and stop her. Which is disappointing, to say the least.

"And by the way," she says, needing to get off one last crack before she lets him get away -- _Is_ she going to let him get away? -- "not having a boyfriend is a _choice_. It doesn't mean I need one." She starts to move.

_Slow and easy. End run. That's it. Don't let him think you're running away._

"Oh, I get it," he calls after her. "You're fucking your partner. Is that it?"

She flicks him off and he laughs. It's a surprisingly rich laugh, one that sets a chord vibrating inside her. She doesn't turn her head. She picks up her pace.

*     *     *     *

Katniss enters her apartment and takes a long swig from her water bottle. She's furious. She's had plenty of sex. If she needs sex right now, she knows where she can get it. She has Gale's number. And not just his. There are plenty of guys in the department who'd --

 _No_. She can take care of herself. After Cato, she's much better off taking care of herself.

Her shoulders slump. Yeah, if she were being totally honest with herself, she'd have to admit she's thought a few times about entering that sex shop, the one around the corner. It's definitely got a shady vibe, but she overheard one of the women officers, of all people, joking about going there the previous weekend. Funny, she thought that woman was married. Oh, never mind.

What she doesn't want, what she's _never_ wanted, is a boyfriend. And even if hell were to freeze over and she ended up deciding to get herself one, she wouldn't be trolling in the suspect pool.  No way. She's not that desperate.

Funny the way he's been popping up all over the place, though. Is he stalking her?

It's a game. Nothing but. Like him putting his hands on his hips knowing her eyes were going to _go there_. And now that she's thinking about it . . .

Ugh! No! The _last_ thing she needs is to fixate on the size of a man's package. That's what got her into trouble with Cato. Which is ironic because it turned out Cato didn't have that big a package. 

Men, always such disappointments.

She glances idly at the TV, then at the windows behind the TV. Was he serious when he said he left a couple of hand prints there? She frowns, wondering. She leaves the drapes open in the daytime. Sometimes, at night, too. When everything's closed, she feels shut in, almost like she can't breathe. But if he's not lying about the prints --

 _Jesus!_ she yells out loud. If she doesn't watch it, she might just end up going to the bar on the corner. It's open till 3 a.m. She's never gone there late. But, with the way she's feeling, today might just end up being her initiation. She bites her lip, then shakes her head. No. She's got to fight those urges. Her eyes go to the knife drawer and she almost reaches for it. Instead, she walks quickly out of the kitchen, opting for a long shower.

*     *     *     *

The shower calms her down. Yes, she thinks, this is just what she needed. She wrings her hair out with a towel while she walks to the living room to finish off her night by watching the news. She ends up falling asleep on the couch, the comforting buzz of the TV low in her ear.

She's floating, cocooned in warmth. Someone breathes her name, low. Bursts of color behind her eyelids, but she doesn't want to open her eyes. No, let her dream a bit more. It's a wonderful dream of walking in a birch forest.

_One, two, three! Open your eyes, Katniss. Open your eyes . . ._


	8. SUSPECT SIGHTING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I revised. I want to go dark. The darker Peeta is here, the better it will be for the story.
> 
> Instead of Katniss doing the crossword (This is what happens when a writer gets complacent, lol), she's investigating an assault in a mall.

"Wha'cha doing, Catnip?" Katniss sighs.

"Nothing," she says.

"Shouldn't we be digging up more stuff on Lover Boy? Maybe he's on OK Cupid!"

"Shut up. Why'd you always have to be such an asshole?"

Maybe Katniss should ask Plutarch for a transfer. She's got to get out of this precinct: Gale's presence shadows her everywhere.

_But out there, you're being shadowed by someone else, and that doesn't seem to bother you at all. Why is that, Katniss?_

But she also knows Plutarch would never approve a transfer. Not for her. He wants her close, so he can keep an eye on her. She's his quasi-daughter, the only family he has.

She decides she can't afford to make an enemy out of Gale. You never know if he might come in handy one day. She relents and says, "I'm checking up on that victim, you know, that assault in the Westfield Mall last week? He's still in intensive care." The victim was a waiter who'd come early to open up the kitchen. Someone had jumped him in the stairwell and he'd sustained serious head injuries.

"Everyone I've interviewed says the man was reallly nice, couldn't have had any enemies," Katniss says.

"Simple robbery," Gale says.

"Yeah," Katniss says softly. The attacker must have been in the stairwell, hiding there when the mall shut down for the night, at 11 p.m. No one had witnessed the attack except for the man now fighting for his life in Kaiser. It had happened at around 6 a.m. Because at 6:30, another person came in and found the beaten man, practically unconscious. Funny that surveillance videos didn't catch anything? How was that possible? It bugged Katniss.

That's when Katniss remembers: the Right to Life protest. Starts in five hours. Of course, everyone's got to be on high alert for any possible nefarious activity. She gets up from her desk. She's been sitting down too much. She much prefers being out on the street than in here, being teased by her partner.

"Where are you going?"

"To Market," Katniss says.

"Pairs, remember?"

"It's just Market."

"There's a pro-life rally in a few hours. The whole unit's getting sent down."

"I'll meet you there," Katniss says.

She needs to be out in the fresh air. She needs to walk, away from this asshole.

"You okay?" Gale says with a frown.

"I'm okay."

Why does Gale have to keep asking if she's okay? Makes her feel unhinged.

Gale reaches for her wrist before she can move away. He turns it over and examines it. "Bruises are fading," he murmurs. "Note to Katniss: avoid gyms where trainers get out of hand."

"Yeah," Katniss says, pulling away.

She walks quickly, sees the usual gaggle of tourists, sidewalk vendors, hot dog and falafel stands, homeless. She knows exactly which homeless are from the area, and who are merely "floaters" -- the ones who go from neighborhood to neighborhood, hoping to get the attention of naive tourists. Mostly, she just wants to show herself, to make people know there's law enforcement around, so if anyone gets any funny ideas . . . A few of the homeless even greet her.

Her tension begins to ease. She knows she's a good cop. She thinks back to something ridiculous that happened this week. A call came in about a disturbance on Powell. Turned out to involve several angry women attacking the owner of a bridal store. Turns out the angry women were brides-to-be who had ordered wedding gowns but hadn't received them in time for the wedding. The dresses were expensive: they ranged from $2,000 all the way to $8,000. Katniss can't imagine paying that much for a dress you'd only get to wear once.

Weddings, those are definitely not her.

Just like that, he appears. But this time, he's not alone.

He's got two-day-old scruff. On anyone else it would look unkempt. But on him, it just seems -- hot?

Of course, the woman he's with is gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. Suspect has his arm draped around her shoulders and the way she's leaning into him, with a glassy look in her eyes, probably means they either a) shared a toke just before coming here; b) had a good fuck; or c) both. Probably, Katniss thinks, both.

"Catnip!" Gale calls, striding through the crowd. That makes Suspect A -- Peeta Mellark -- turn his head and see her.

 _Shit_!

Katniss keeps walking, leaving Gale to catch up.

"Hey, I think I just saw -- "

"Yeah, yeah," Katniss says.

Gale gives a low whistle. "That's some armpiece he's got there."

"Yeah, just some bimbo."

"Nice tits," Gale says.

 _Figures_.

*     *     *     *

The day after the march, Plutarch has the entire precinct gather for an "assessment" meeting. That's so everyone can say what went down in their sector, and come up with suggestions for better crowd control next time.

Katniss thinks everything went pretty well. No reported muggings, no fistfights. The bits shown on the late-night news showed a disciplined protest, no troublemakers, no rowdy drunks.

_Well, what do you know._

"Someone was shot," Glimmer says. Everyone looks at her. "In the leg," she says bashfully. "By accident."

"So did you get him?" Plutarch asks.

 


	9. THE ARREST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta's date ends up filing a report against him. Katniss is confused. The witness is unreliable, to say the least.
> 
> Just to let you know: yes, women are harassed and abused, and this Katniss is Exhibit A. But I wanted to describe her situation (being the focus of handsy Gale, abusive Cato) without in any way mitigating how awful it must be for her.
> 
> Also, the woman with Peeta will claim Peeta did all sorts of things which he did not in fact do. WHY she did will all come to light, later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeta is arrested!!!
> 
> Gale is trying to frame him.
> 
> Katniss is on Peeta's side, but she has to fight everyone in the department, including her own partner.

She sees Peeta being led through the station. There's a bruise on his right cheek. His eyes are dark with fury. A muscle throbs in his jaw, but he stays silent.

"What's going on?" Katniss says as she steps into Plutarch's office. Plutarch sighs and says, "Close the door."

She bangs it shut and faces him, leaning both palms on his desk.

"You can't be serious, Plutarch. We have NOTHING against him. Nothing that will hold up in court, anyway."

"Well, Katniss, we have a young woman who spent two days with the suspect and says he showed some very disturbing behavior."

"What? When? When did she give this evidence? To whom did she give this evidence?"

"Last night. She called 9-1-1 last night, asked to be picked up, said she'd been banged around."

"By whom? By the suspect?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

Katniss sits down. "Who took her statement?"

"Your partner."

"Gale? Why didn't he call me? He knows the deal: when it's a case of sexual assault, I'm the one who takes the statement."

"Well -- " Plutarch says. "You weren't answering your cell, he says."

Katniss frowns. She almost takes out her cell right there. But she knows it's a lie. Her cell is always on, and it's always next to her bed.

"Plutarch, he's lying. I don't know why he's lying, but he is. Check my phone records. I don't have any missed calls."

"Katniss, listen to yourself. You're accusing your partner of lying? Why would he do that?"

"Because he doesn't like the suspect."

"You have any proof of that statement?"

"Yes."

There is a long silence. Then Plutarch says, "You'd better keep that to yourself for now. This is a hot case, as you know. Many people are complaining that we've been too lax, letting a suspect walk, free as a bird . . . "

"So this -- this whole arrest. It's all just a public relations stunt? Are you giving the press conference?"

"I am not giving the press conference. That will be handled by our public relations office. Of course."

Katniss bites her lip. She decides to try for one more thing. "He's been banged up."

"Who?"

"The suspect. Mellark. His face is bruised."

"Resisting arrest."

"I don't believe this. Why wasn't I told, why wasn't I there."

"Look, this all went down very quickly. I don't know why you weren't told. Maybe it was too early in the morning, who knows."

"He's spending the night in jail," Katniss says. "Has he called a lawyer?"

"Yes. And the lawyer will be here presently."

"Who is it?"

"Ian O'Doherty."

A big name. The biggest. He might even end up suing the department. She gives a rueful smile. "It figures," she says.

*     *     *     *

As Katniss leaves Plutarch's office, she lets her eyes roam the precinct room.

_Where is that son of a bitch?_

She heads for the women's room. She just needs a moment to collect herself. Just a moment.

She slams into a stall, then leans her head against the stall door, trying to breathe deeply, rhythmically.

_Calm down, girl. If you're going to be any help at all to him, you've got to calm down.  
_

*     *     *     *

The press conference is awful: just absolute crap.

There's a forest of microphones jammed in the face of the public relations rep, an older man who looks, frankly, overwhelmed.

The only good to come of this situation is that Gale is making himself scarce.

Peeta's lawyer gives his own press conference: "The charges are completely baseless. Our client will be proven innocent in due time. We extend our deepest sympathies to the family of Eva DeLancey but, know this: Her murderer is still out there."

Someone shouts a question: "How is your client holding up?"

"He's doing well," the lawyer says. "He's in good spirits."

"How long do the police intend to keep him locked up?"

"We will be posting bail tomorrow," the lawyer says.

There are questions about the new charges, the ones brought by Alison Gaynor, the woman Katniss saw with Peeta, that day on Market Street. The lawyer says those charges are completely false, his client did not physically assault her.

After ten more minutes, the lawyer indicates he's done taking questions. The TV flashes a picture of Peeta. He's staring straight at the camera, his hair is neat, he's wearing a light blue shirt and he's smiling.

That night, for some reason, she dreams of _him_. When she wakes, she can still hear his dream voice telling her, over and over, "I'm all right, don't worry. I'm all right." And she wonders why it's _him_ telling her, when it should be the other way around.

*     *      *     *

Plutarch calls an early-morning meeting and Gale shows up for this one. Katniss can't bear to even look at him. She sits on the end of the table farthest away from him. Plutarch asks Gale to summarize the developments thus far in the Eva DeLancey case. Katniss has to struggle not to sneer.


	10. HEY, YOU IN THE CELL

"Hey," Katniss says.

The man in the cell is lying down, an arm over his eyes. When he hears her voice, he raises his head. Katniss sees his face. His right cheek is purple.

"What happened?" she asks.

He gets up quickly and approaches the cell bars. She can see the blue of his eyes now. Dimmed, but still intense. He gives her a rueful smile. "Got into a fight," he says.

"You need a doctor," she says.

He sighs. "I don't. It's just a punch in the face. I've had those before."

"It's your call," Katniss says, beginning to move away. "I just thought I'd check on you."

"Your partner doesn't like me very much," he says.

Katniss stops and turns. "You don't say."

"I know why."

"Tell me."

"It's because of you."

Katniss knows it's true. But she says, "You're being ridiculous."

"You don't think he likes you? You haven't noticed the way he looks at you?"

Katniss shakes her head. This was a bad idea. "I have to go," Katniss says.

"You know he does. And you feel guilty. You feel responsible. Don't. I'm a big boy."

"Did you hit that woman?"

"Have you slept with him?"

"Stop playing games. Did you hit that woman?"

"I've never hit any woman in my whole life. So, no, I did not hit that woman."

"Do you have any witnesses who can back up your story?"

"No."

Katniss snorts. "Of course you don't."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Were you intimate with her?"

There's a long pause. "Yes. But I didn't know her."

"You always sleep with women you don't know?"

"Touché. I used an escort service."

"Lawyer's here," a voice says. Katniss turns quickly. Gale is staring at them. Katniss gives him a look of infinite revulsion. Gale turns to the man in the cell. "Looks like you just posted bail." Gale slides open the cell bars. Then says, without looking at her, "What are you doing here, Catnip?"

"Gathering information," Katniss says quickly. She watches Gale lead Peeta to the elevators. "I need to speak to that woman."

Gale says, over his shoulder, "She already gave a statement."

"Where is she now?" Katniss asks.

The elevator doors open and Gale shoves Peeta in. He turns and faces Katniss. "Hospital. I checked her in myself." The elevator doors start to close.

Behind Gale's back, Mellark looks straight at her. The look on his face -- is it a warning? He must sense her doubt because he shakes his head, ever so slightly. Katniss steps quickly into the elevator and stands next to Gale.

They don't speak. Katniss can feel the ripples of tension off Gale. When they get to the main floor, she says, "I'll take it from here, thanks." She turns, takes Mellark by the arm, and walks off the elevator.

 


	11. THE LAWYER TAKES CHARGE OF HIS CLIENT

"You don't need to baby me, you know," Mellark says, low-voiced, as he and Katniss walk to the room where the lawyer waits. "You can take your hand off my arm."

"Shut up," she says. "If you try anything funny . . . "

"I try anything funny? That's rich. You're an Easter bunny in a precinct full of horny cops . . . "

"Shut up or I'll hand you back to my partner."

Mellark shrugs but thankfully doesn't say anything the rest of the way.

"Your client, Mr. O'Doherty," Katniss says as she leads Mellark into the room.

The lawyer is on his feet in an instant. "Peeta!" he bursts out. "In God's name, what did they do to you?"

Peeta shrugs. "Tough love. I guess."

The lawyer turns to Katniss. "You're going to hear from us about this!"

"It wasn't her," Peeta says sharply. "Let's just go. I feel like crap. I haven't slept at all."

"This way," the lawyer says, brushing past Katniss brusquely. "My car's at the back entrance. We'll get you looked at first -- "

"No!" Peeta says. "No hospitals. I just want to go home."

The two men walk quickly down the corridor, still arguing. Katniss stands there, looking after them, feeling somewhat disgruntled.

_Well, what'd you expect? Gratitude? From a man like that?_

Just before they walk out, Mellark turns his head and sees Katniss still standing there. He says something but she just stares, confused. He shakes his head and says "Just a sec" to his lawyer, who looks at him, stunned.

Mellark walks back to Katniss and places his mouth at her right ear. "Watch your back," he whispers. "You may need a lawyer yourself."

She is so shocked she doesn't have time to react. He, Suspect A, has just given her a warning. Why? But he's already out the door. In the next minute, she hears the squeal of tires. She hurries out the door just in time to see a black Escalade with tinted windows barrel out of the lot.

*     *     *     *

"Catnip!"

Katniss grits her teeth. "Not now, Gale," she says. "I have to go."

"Oh, come on!" he says, planting himself right in front of her. "You must be happy. Your man's gone -- POOF!"

"Gale, he posted bail, it doesn't mean he's cleared -- "

"Right! I forgot. Thanks. How silly of me."

"You're an ass!" Katniss says, trying to brush past him.

Gale grabs her arm.

"Tonight, Catnip? I'll meet you at your place, we can work out our differences -- "

Katnip yanks her arm out of Gale's grasp and keeps walking.

*     *     *     *

The hospital's on Parnassus. Katniss walks through the main lobby and asks at the reception desk: "Alison Gaynor's room, please."

The receptionist checks the records and says, "Sorry, ma'am, she's checked out."

"When?" Katniss says.

The receptionist checks again. "This morning."

_Dammit!_

"Do you have an address for her?"

*     *     *     *

Katniss looks up at the building in front of her. She has the address right, she knows that. She checked and double-checked, even called the hospital back. When she saw the address, she changed to street clothes (She always has some in the trunk of her car, and in her locker in the department) so she could walk without being harassed. But now, standing in front of the building, she's about to be swarmed. People saying what a sweet bitch she is and what does she want, where does she want it. She pulls a hood over her head and starts walking, fast.

That wasn't a residence. It was an abandoned warehouse on the corner of Turk and Leavenworth. It was a drugstore, of the variety she once intimately knew well. She hasn't been there in years, but nothing's changed.

She hates the thought of having to call Mellark's lawyer and arrange for another interview. But she might have to. She needs to know how he got in touch with this woman, what she was like, what they did . . .  She scowls. She doesn't really want to know what they did. But she can imagine.

*     *     *     *

Katniss puts her boots up on the coffee table, not minding that a mess of newspapers spills to the floor. She's lost her crossword page, but who cares. She nurses a glass of Jack Daniel's in her right hand and groans.

What. A. Day.

She stretches, like a cat. She feels dirty, like she needs to dip herself in bleach. An hour in the Tenderloin will do that to you.

_Glad I didn't see anyone I used to know._

Was that a real address?

How would a woman like Alison Gaynor get a job with a high-end escort agency?

How would a woman like that get with Mellark?

She closes her eyes. God, she should stop thinking about him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Escalade isn't Peeta's ride; it's the lawyer's. Peeta wouldn't drive an SUV. He's more the sportscar type.


	12. THE INVESTIGATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long will this game of cat and mouse between Katniss and Mellark (Suspect A) last? Now she can't even talk to him without him bringing up his lawyer! 
> 
> Sigh: This Katniss has such bad luck with men. But she has a plan! And Mellark may just be the man to help her!

"What happened to Alison Gaynor?" Katniss asks Gale the next day. "Seems like she just disappeared."

"How the hell would I know?" Gale says. "I dropped her off at the hospital."

"I went yesterday," Katniss says. "She'd checked out."

"She must have been feeling better," Gale says.

"The report you filed said she had serious injuries."

"She did," Gale says.

"Then how could she have checked herself out two days later?"

"Is this about Mellark?"

"No, it's about you taking a statement from a woman who's disappeared. Aren't you the least bit worried about her?"

"No, should I be?"

"Mellark's out on bail. You don't think he'll try and harass her?"

"If he does, we'll just have to drag his ass right back to jail, won't we? Oh, I forgot. You have the hots for him."

Katniss decides to ignore that remark; she has to. She has to do her job. "Where is she, Gale? You're the last policeman she spoke to."

"Did you try the escort agency?"

"No, but I will now. What was it called?"

"Pussy Galore," Gale says, and bursts out laughing.

Katniss already knows the name of the agency; she just finished reading the report. Her asking is just a feint. Obviously.

Looks like that'll be the next focus of her investigation. She's not telling Gale a thing.

"You know what's really weird, Catnip? You trying to chase all these leads. Everyone knows he's guilty."

"Sorry, I don't seem to have gotten the memo."

"Wasting valuable police time, chasing after ghosts."

*     *     *     *

Katniss raps on Plutarch's door.

_Keep it cool, Katniss. Don't let him see you upset. He'll think Gale is right and pull you off the case._

When she doesn't hear an answering "Come in" she says, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

For several moments, there's only silence. Finally, she hears Plutarch say (and she doesn't miss the tiredness in his voice), "All right, come on in."

Plutarch is her last hope. She's got to make him listen.

She sees him look up from his desk: there's wariness in his eyes, but affection, too. She hasn't lost him!

*     *     *     *

She's sitting in her car outside Mellark's building. She's not bothering to be surreptitious, that'll only make it more fun for Mellark, and this is not about fun. This is about finding Alison Gaynor and finding the killer of Eva DeLancey. So the suspect's kinda hot, so what. Plutarch trusts her and he okayed the stake-out. By herself. Gale was fuming, but she knew she'd never be able to execute her plan if he rode along.

It's almost 10 a.m. Doesn't the guy ever need to go to work? She checked and he's still manager of the Ritz Carlton. In spite of the allegations against him. That is some serious PR power. That, or he has something over the owners of the Ritz Carlton.

Finally, she sees him. He's in those leggings again. He deliberately looks over to where she sits and gives her a smile and a wave. She waves back. Ha!

He bends over and does some stretching. The suspect bending over, his face almost touching his feet, is -- ! Katniss's face gets hot and she shifts her gaze. When she looks back, only moments later, he's disappeared.

 _Fuck_!

She's just getting out of the car when she sees him, only a few feet away. The bruise on his cheek, faded now to an off shade of yellow, doesn't diminish his handsomeness in the least. He stands and looks at her, as if waiting for an explanation. When she stays silent, he lifts his hand and she sees the cell.

"I was just about to call my lawyer. But I decided to hear what you have to say first."

"Listen," Katniss says. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me -- "

"I do, though," Mellark says. "I don't know why, but I do."

"And I -- I trust you," Katniss says.

That takes Mellark by surprise, from the way he tilts his head and begins to lower his cell.

"I think you may be in danger," Katniss says.

Mellark shakes his head and smiles. "And you think this is news to me?" he says.

"Please hear me out," Katniss says. "I think I may have a plan."

"Keep talking," Mellark says.

It takes all of 20 minutes for Katniss to lay out her plan (and she had never considered herself much of a talker!), all the while trying to focus on her words and not on the fact that Mellark has come close and is listening to her with head bowed, in an attitude of perfect concentration. His cheek is so very close to her mouth, and -- really! -- the man is too attractive for his own good.

When she's done explaining everything, he says, slowly, "It's too risky."

"I promise, I'll be there with you the whole time, you'll never be alone."

He looks her directly in the eyes and smiles. "You are a very determined woman, aren't you, Katniss Everdeen?" he says. Her heart almost stops.

"I am," she says firmly.

She has to get this over with soon because the way he's standing so close to her and so thoughtfully listening is making her so, so -- "So what'll it be? Are you in?"

She blushes right after she's said the words. Acck! She hopes he doesn't notice that little slip of the tongue.

"Oh, I'm in," he says, still smiling. "I'm all in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why can't these two just get together? Does it have to be so hard? (Sigh)


	13. THE SUSPECT'S DIARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been editing and re-editing this chapter, cutting and re-positioning, adding little bits here and there. Sorry! I want the diaries to work, and until they do, I won't be able to write the next chapter.
> 
> I threw this chapter in because I felt the main story line was getting a little thin. 
> 
> I re-read the opening chapters, and holy smokes they were dark. And my favorite parts of the opening chapter WERE the diary entries, believe it or not. So I just wanted to see if I could re-introduce some of that inner darkness of Peeta.
> 
> It won't get much darker than this, though, I promise. That was a dark time of Peeta's life. He was restless, he married the wrong person, he thought Delly could "cure" him with her goodness.
> 
> Someone mentioned the "rape" tag that I put in when I wrote the first chapter, last year. Unfortunately I didn't check my tags again when I picked up this story, just a week or so ago. My apologies. I put it in originally because Cato was creepy and used the word "rape" to Katniss. They end up in a relationship, which means her judgment is seriously impaired. She had bad judgment, she was not raped. I took the tag off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO THINGS: I might re-arrange the chapters so that this goes somewhere in the beginning. Just saying you may see this "disappear" -- all it means is I put it earlier. OR: I may add more narrative "around" the diary entries so you can see how Katniss is going to use her memories of Peeta's diary -- in helping her nab the first victim's killer.
> 
> THANK YOU for your comments because they really help me shape the story.

Mellark was pretty quiet, after Katniss laid it all out for him. She knows she's right: someone hates him badly enough to plant evidence, to make him look like a killer. Someone who knows that he's not in a relationship, and hasn't been in one for a long time, someone who's watched him, who knows he sometimes picks up women in bars, someone who knows that he uses a high-end escort service . . .

"Can I ask you something?" he'd said, at the end. "Do you like what you do?"

"Why?" She said. "Does it really matter?"

He nodded. She said, "I'm good at it, so yeah." She realized he was the first person -- other than Plutarch -- who knew that her job really did mean something to her.

"You don't have to _like_ what you're good at," Mellark said. Then, after a few beats, "You really don't care what happens to you, do you? I mean, you don't think you matter. Why is that?"

*      *      *     *

3 cups of coffee. It's past 2 a.m. Time for bed, Katniss. She's been looking over his diaries. She can't seem to get over the idea that they must contain a clue. It's someone he knows, she thinks.

The last half of September 2013, the entries are about his fights with Delilah. Delly. The entries short, but somehow more emotional, more intense.

**September 2, 2013: Stop hurting her feelings. Stop arguing.**

**September 18, 2013: She's in coffee-colored pants today.  The new girl looks bangable.**

The first wife was all "kiss the sky" kind of stuff, and he:

 **September 27, 2013** : **Her breasts are amazing. Note to self: when with Delly, stop looking at other women's breasts.**

No wonder the marriage collapsed.

When they were separated, but not yet legally divorced **,** he took a leave from his job, traveled the world.

**April 3, 2014: Must find the Source. Travel to Tibet and the Himalayas. Done with Pattaya.**

From Pattaya, Thailand (aka "Sin city") to Tibet? Obviously he was searching for something.

**May 9, 2014: The women I'm attracted to . . . avoid them. Do not get murder-y, she's not worth it.**

That word: murder-y. Why did he use it?

Katniss scratches at the faint web of scars on her inner thighs. Could he possibly be what Gale says he is?

Delly's note:

**Never ignore a person who loves you, cares for you, and misses you, because one day you might wake up and realize, you lost the moon while counting the stars.**

The woman obviously cared. A lot. And she knows what is happening to him now. Katniss doesn't know how she knows this, she's never bothered contacting Delilah/Delly, but she's sure the ex-wife would have heard something about Peeta's difficulties, even if she's all the way in Paris. Should she call the ex-Mrs. Mellark? Should she?

Her alarm goes off, it's 6 a.m. She hasn't slept a wink. _  
_


	14. ALISON GAYNOR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too confusing, with the frequent jumpcuts.
> 
> Think of this as a film. Like MEMENTO, but not as good, lol.
> 
> THERE IS NO PLOT!
> 
> I'm just making it up as I go along, seeing where this Everlark takes me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a Cato flashback, the first. It's short and quick. Just shows Katniss as a very green police trainee. (The link: Peeta says 'Sorry' and then Katniss says 'sorry' which leads to a flashback: "I'm sorry" at the shooting range with Big Bad Cato)
> 
> She has this flashback while she's sitting with Peeta in the penthouse, and he notices she's somewhere else in her head. This Peeta is very observant, he reads Katniss well (but she still hasn't moved on from referring to him as "Mellark")
> 
> Also, I am downpedaling the fluff because these two should not be distracted! They're in the middle of a police investigation! I could have gone into way more detail with what Peeta and Alison did together but that would be totally, totally voyeuristic on my part. So, I exercised will power.

Katniss and Mellark meet next at the Ritz Carlton. In the penthouse suite. She doesn't wear her uniform. But she feels she has to dress professionally, so she wears a suit. Black. And high-heeled pumps. Her very first heels. Nine West, and they're killing her.

Mellark comes in from a meeting and God, he is just lovely: all carefully combed hair, suit fitting him to a T, thin black tie, those Italian loafers. He asks someone to bring them coffee and it's brought on a silver tray, just like in the movies.

Alison Gaynor's picture's been taken off the escort services website.

Of course, what did Katniss expect?

"So you asked for her specifically?" Katniss asks Mellark.

"Yeah," Mellark says softly. "I saw her picture. There was something about her . . . I guess."

Now, all Katniss has are what Alison's parents sent over: old college pictures, a high school yearbook. She looks so innocent. Katniss pauses at the picture of Alison blowing out the candles of her 18th birthday cake. She's still got baby fat, Jesus Christ.

She shows the pictures to Mellark.

"She looked quite a bit -- different," he admits.

He seems a bit -- embarrassed? But why should he be? From what she's read in his diaries, nothing should embarrass this man.

Katniss looks into the smiling, happy, unaware eyes of the 18-year-old Alison Gaynor and her gut clenches.

_Get a grip, Katniss. She's missing, she's not dead._

There's one picture of her where she donated time as a model for a charity auction. She's 20 or 21. She's sticking her tongue out at the photographer. Her cheeks are sprinkled in glitter. Her eyes are dancing. Where was this taken? She looks like she could be the life and soul of the party.

Katniss gets so lost in her musings that when she happens to glance up, she catches Mellark looking at her. She sits a little straighter.

"Alison had a pretty active FB page until last year, when she took everything down," she continues. Mellark just nods. "That's about when she started working for the service."

Who gets a job with an escort service? Maybe she was trying to pay off a college loan? She attended State.

"She did a little modeling on the side," Mellark says. "She mentioned that."

"Oh," Katniss says.

"Not for a skin mag, or anything like that," Mellark says.

_Oh, I guess she had standards. Only high-end escort services for Alison._

"She did mention a bikini shoot -- "

"She mention for whom?"

"I think she said it was for an art shoot."

"An art shoot?"

"Yeah, that's all she said. I'm sorry."

"So -- she show you the stills?"

"No, I'm sorry. She just mentioned it once."

"Okay," Katniss says. She's sorry, too.

*     *     *     *

_"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"_

_"I'm sorry?" Katniss looks toward the speaker. Oh. It's the blonde training officer. Cato. His eyes have been following her around all week. He has powerful arms._

_"I said, where'd you learn to shoot like that?"_

_She shrugs, suddenly tongue-tied._

_"I've been watching you. Trying to figure out whether you're a lesbian or not."  
_

_He laughs. She doesn't._

_"Anyone ever tell you you're way too serious?"_

_*    *     *     *_

_"_ Hey," Mellark says. "Like some more coffee?" He looks intently at her.

She shakes her head. "I'm good, thanks."

"You okay?" he asks, looking worried.

"Yeah, why?"

"You had a look."

"I was just thinking. I'm fine."

She wants to ask Mellark about Eva DeLancey, the other case she and Gale were handling. But it might be a little much for one afternoon.

She thanks Mellark for his time. He says Oh, no problem and Take care of yourself and she says, I always do. He repeats, All right then, just take care. It's a little awkward? She hopes he can't tell how loneliness seeps from her pores.

He puts a hand on the small of her back as he guides her to the door.


	15. GALE vs. MELLARK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two conversations, well three now. I just added a brief scene with Plutarch at the very end.

"Hey," Gale says, walking up to Mellark just as Mellark's about to key in his entry code.

Mellark glances up but doesn't say anything, just goes back to keying in his code.

"You think you're so cool, huh," Gale says, taunting.

"Why are you following me?" Mellark says. "I haven't been charged."

"Oh you will," Gale says, smiling. "You'll be charged with assault."

Mellark faces him. Looks Gale up and down, then says quietly, "I never hit Alison. Never." After a beat he adds, "And you know it."

"How'd you figure -- ?" Gale says.

"I've never laid hands on a woman. I'm not -- like that," Mellark says. "I've never hit a woman. And I wouldn't."

"Oh, and we're supposed to believe that?" Gale sneers. "Did you see the condition of Alison's face after?"

"No I didn't," Mellark says, softly. "I'm sorry. I would have helped her if I knew."

"That's really nice: I would have helped her if I knew. Is that going to be your defense?"

"Look," Mellark says. "I think you'd better leave. I haven't been charged, you're not supposed to be here. Don't force me to call my lawyer."

"Okay, okay," Gale says, finally backing away. He's still smirking.

Mellark slips inside. Once he's back in his apartment, he sends a quick text. His phone vibrates almost immediately and he picks up.

"You saw all that? I know, it's just intimidation. But it's annoying and -- " he sighs in frustration. "What about the other thing? Any news?"

He listens intently, then his shoulders slump. "So, she's officially declared missing?"

*     *    *     *

Katniss hear the dejection in Mellark's voice when he says, "So, she's officially declared missing?"

"Yeah," she says. "I wish I could get a hold of her client list." Pause. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -- "

"You keep apologizing. Listen, I was only with her twice. Still it's awful to think she might have come to harm because of me."

"I tried calling the service but they said they can't release client records without a subpoena."

"You spoke to Effie Trinket?"

"Yeah. She's the owner, right?"

"Right. She's quite a character. She's probably worried about the business impact. One of their biggest pluses is client confidentiality."

"So," Katniss says, mulling it over, "were there any times you called for Alison and she wasn't available?"

"No. But -- I only called the service three times, total. The first time was almost a year ago."

"And how long was it between the first and second time you were with Alison?"

"About a month."

There's silence. "I'll find her," Katniss finally says.

After she gets off the phone, Katniss leans her head back on the car seat and closes her eyes.

Who would want to hurt Alison, and why?

It's been a week since the woman checked out of the hospital. Every day that passes, the stone weighing Katniss's chest seems to get heavier. Police are taught that the best chances of finding a missing person are in the 24 hours immediately following the disappearance. After that, the odds against finding a missing person alive increase exponentially. Katniss's fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

She calls Mellark back. "Listen, I'm going to have to take myself off for a day or two while I hunt down other leads. Do not, and I mean DO NOT, go to any bars or, or -- call a service, or anything like that, okay? I'd hate to think -- anyway, just go straight home after work. And no fooling around. I mean it."

"I'm not going to be able to have any dates? Do you realize how seriously that will impact my mental health?"

She hangs up to avoid the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue.

*     *     *     *

"Plutarch?" Katniss says. Her boss looks up wearily from his desk.

_Jesus, he looks awful. Just --_

"What happened to you?" she asks. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. What is it? Got any good news? Tell me you've got good news."

Katniss sidles slowly into the room.

"Well, not exactly."

"Then get out."


	16. A MUCH-NEEDED TALK BETWEEN KATNISS AND PLUTARCH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More drama for Katniss!
> 
> Plutarch's under pressure from higher-ups and from the public to get results in the investigation. So he's not in the best of moods. This chapter begins where the last chapter left off: in Plutarch's office.

Plutarch casts Katniss an irritated look. She hasn't made a move towards the door.

"I'm giving another press conference this afternoon," he says. _God, I hate this._

Katniss understands. Honestly, she hates anything to do with the press. "I thought you didn't have to do those yourself?"

"Well, guess what. Apparently the higher-ups are pissed off enough that they didn't give me any choice."

"Oh," Katniss says. Then adds, after a beat, "I'm sorry."

"Okay, so what do you have? Any new evidence against the suspect?"

"You mean, against Mellark? Sorry, no . . . "

"So why, exactly, are you here?"

"I'd like to get a search warrant for the escort service."

"Why? Think it'll strengthen our case against the suspect?"

"It'll help me find her, if she's still alive."

"Good luck with that! No."

Katniss bites her lip. "Okay, well, I just think, with this case, there's been too much focus on the one suspect."

"Katniss, if you can show me any evidence at all that will point to another suspect, I'd be only too happy to let you pursue this, but -- you know there isn't any evidence pointing that way. And while I think Hawthorne's allegations about you are completely false -- "

"What allegations?" Katniss says sharply.

Plutarch shakes his head. "I can't do this right now. Let's meet tomorrow."

"Fine," Katniss huffs, and walks out.

Plutarch looks at her retreating back and shakes his head. He doesn't give a damn about what Gale Hawthorne says about Katniss, Plutarch knows it isn't true. The idea -- that she'd be sleeping with the suspect -- is completely baseless. But Katniss is young and she is attractive and if Hawthorne shoots his mouth off enough, it's Plutarch who'll pay the price. He grimaces. He'll have to pretend to take Hawthorne seriously, a game he despises. And then he'll require him to undergo psychological counseling. Five sessions, minimum. No way he'll let Hawthorne weasel out of it. There's also the additional matter of the suspect's lawyer, who claims Mellark was roughed up unnecessarily while in custody, after having given himself up without a struggle (or so he claims).

*     *     *     *

The next morning, Katniss is skittish as a cat as she waits outside Plutarch's door. She hasn't slept much, but then, she never does. Plutarch calls out that it's okay to come in, and then she's standing before his desk, her whole body radiating tension.

"Sit," Plutarch tells her. "This might take a while."

"I'd rather stand," she says. "If that's all right."

"Suit yourself," Plutarch says. "All right, let's cut to the chase. Hawthorne tells me you've had some -- distractions -- lately."

"What? Again?" Katniss says hotly. "He said that last year."

"I know." Plutarch bites his lip. Damn it, it should be Hawthorne he's calling on the carpet. Not Katniss. "But I just want to be sure -- very sure -- that you can handle the situation with Mellark with professionalism."

"What does that mean? I've never been anything BUT professional. With anyone."

"Well, uh -- " Plutarch says. "Sleeping with a fellow police officer is _not_ professional."

Katniss reels as if she's been slapped. "It was a mistake, I know. But it only happened once. And we weren't partners then."

"Katniss. I know you're a good cop. A very dedicated cop. But given that, that lapse of judgment. I don't want it to happen again."

"Did he tell you he keeps pestering me?"

Plutarch narrows his eyes.

"Are you telling me he's harassing you?"

Katniss looks straight at Plutarch. "Yes."

"What does he do?" Plutarch says.

"Touches me. Grabs my arm, my hand, my waist."

To say that Plutarch looks slightly nauseous would be an understatement.

"Would you be prepared to put those charges in writing, Katniss?" Plutarch says.

Katniss nods.

"Good. In the meantime, I'll start undertaking steps to get him transferred to another precinct."

"Thank you, Plutarch," Katniss says.

Plutarch tells her she can go. She's almost to the door when he says, "Katniss. I'm glad you told me."

She nods.

"If this gets out, the charges against Mellark get tossed. His lawyer's liable to be all over it. I'd say you've done Mellark a big favor here."

"Still won't make my job any easier," Katniss says. "I still have to find Alison Gaynor."

*     *     *     *

Katniss walks out of Plutarch's office, feeling discouraged. She never wanted to be caught up in the cycle of accusation and counter-accusation that Gale seems to thrive off. She just wants to do her job, dammit! She wants to protect women like Alison Gaynor. Like Eva DeLancey. Every minute she spent in Plutarch's office was a minute she could have been sniffing out leads. She feels like she's lost. Again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whistle blowers are never popular. Katniss is REALLY going to have to watch her back.


	17. PROMISING DEVELOPMENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta calls Katniss. It doesn't go well (though, that's my fault because I couldn't just have him say, straight up: "Hey, you haven't been by for almost a week. What's up? I miss having you watch over me." No, I had to think up a stupid joke for him! Apologies) 
> 
> Anyhoo, this chapter also has Katniss meeting Dr. Finnick Odair!

Katniss is back at the hospital. "Please," she says to the receptionist, "could you direct me to the doctor who treated Alison Gaynor?"

The receptionist stares at Katniss with her mouth open, as if she can't quite believe what she's being asked to do. Katniss glances down quickly at the woman's name tag. "Okay, May, the reason I keep pestering you is, there's a chance the girl may be in danger, and the sooner I find out where she is, the more chances I'll be able to help her -- "

"Dr. Odair's been in ER all morning, Ma'am -- " the receptionist starts, and then stops as she realizes she let the doctor's name slip.

Katniss decides to leave the receptionist alone; she can always get Odair's number from the hospital website. Where IS the emergency entrance, anyway?

She circles the hospital until she finds it. But decides she won't go snooping around in there today. There are some things she needs to be "up" for, and somehow her energy's at a low point today.

She heads back to the car, and feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulls it out and sees it's from Mellark.

"Okay," she says, "Katniss speaking."

There's a pause before he answers. "Why so formal, officer?" he says.

Katniss bites her tongue. "Umm, make it quick, if this isn't an emergency, I'll have to call you back."

He sounds a little "down" when he answers. "Do I still need to -- you know, be _careful_ with my afterwork activities? Because it's been almost a week now."

"Really?" Katniss can't help retorting. "You called to let me know you can't take a week without sex? Excuse me, I have other things to worry about right now. Like finding a missing woman."

"Hey, hey, hey," Mellark says. "You're scrappy today. Okay, I'll be a good boy. When are you coming?"

Katniss closes her eyes. Why, why, why?

"Ah, on that front, I have good news to report: Plutarch is aware of, ah -- the situation -- and he's taking care of it."

"What? You mean I don't have to worry about police officers showing up at my place and harassing me any longer?"

"Yup, that's right."

"And who do I have to thank for this development? Did you say something to Plutarch?"

"No, not really. Umm, he's a pretty smart guy. He figured it out."

"Oh." There's a silence between them. "Okay, then," Mellark says. "Does this mean you don't need to watch over me anymore?"

"Yup, that is exactly what it means." Silence again. "But you still can't go around picking up women. Because the person who's been trying to frame you is still out there."

"Okay," Mellark says. Then, "I'll miss you."

"What?" Katniss says.

But the phone clicks dead.

Unfortunately, she doesn't have time to process the end of that conversation. A male voice calls, "Officer! Officer!" from somewhere behind her, and when she turns she finds a handsome man in a white doctors coat heading in her direction.

"Are you the officer who was looking for Dr. Odair several minutes ago?" the man says with a purposeful air.

"Yes," Katniss says. "And you are -- ?"

"I'm Doctor Odair. I'm sorry the receptionist was so rude. Someone overheard your conversation and came to get me in the ER. How can I help?"

"Do you have time to answer a couple of questions?" Katniss asks.

"Sure!" Dr. Odair says. "Can I get you a cup of coffee? Let's go to the cafeteria. They even have good cheesecake, if you've got a sweet tooth."

Dr. Odair finds them a quiet corner of the cafeteria, and it turns out he's right: it _is_ pretty good cheesecake. And the coffee -- so much better than Dunkin' Donuts. The doctor lets her finish the cheesecake before asking, "So, what do you want to know?"

"I'm investigating a missing person -- you remember Alison Gaynor? She came to the emergency room about a week ago . . . . and she was hospitalized with injuries. You were the first to treat her?"

Dr. Odair nods. "She'd been beaten, mostly around the face. We have to go through this whole checklist of questions -- and then we examined her for rape, even though she insisted she hadn't been sexually assaulted."

Katniss takes notes as Dr. Odair talks, and her gut twists.

"Did she tell you who her assailant was?" Katniss asks.

"No," Dr. Odair says. "She didn't want to divulge the assailant's identity, even though the officer she was with kept pressing her."

"She came in with someone?" _That would be Gale of course._

"Yes. A policeman drove her here."

"Did she say how the assault happened?"

"No, not really. She was pretty incoherent, actually. I had to give her a sedative. We were going to stitch up one bad cut, on her forehead, and then release her, but the policeman said she had nowhere to go, and asked if she could stay in the hospital overnight. He was pretty insistent, so we ended up giving her a room."

Katniss frowns. "You were going to release her? But I saw the police report. It said she had serious injuries."

"Well, she had a shiner, that's for sure. And that one bad cut on her forehead. She didn't have any broken bones, no concussion . . .  we ran all the tests. The rape kit showed she'd had sex but there was no sign of forcible entry."

Katniss is more confused than ever. "You took notes on her injuries? Could I see them?"

"You know I can't release medical records without a court order. That would be in violation of state and federal law. But I can tell you it was my assessment she could have walked out of here. After a little rest, of course. There was one thing, though -- "

"Yes?" Katniss says.

"She seemed very, very frightened of the policeman. She didn't say anything to me, but from the way she kept staring at him, and started every time he touched her -- it just seemed strange. You'd think she'd be grateful to the cop who saved her, right?"

"Right," Katniss says.

 

 

 


	18. AFTERBURN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter went in an unexpected direction. Katniss wants comfort, Peeta is ready and able to provide that comfort, but they're not in love. Whether that means they want physical comfort/intimacy or just talking, I'll leave that up to your imaginations for now.
> 
> It doesn't quite go *there* (heaves a big sigh of relief, Katniss dodges a bullet) I added just three sentences more; I think the scene is good to go.

"That's -- " Katniss begins. Then, "Oh."

She and Dr. Odair sit quietly for a few moments, without speaking. She knows what he was trying to say. She knows.

Alison was scared of the policeman. Therefore, she was scared of _Gale_.

"Thank you for your time, doctor," she says. "You've been very helpful."

"If there's anything else you need -- "

"That's it for now," Katniss says.

"I hope you find her," Dr. Odair says. She'd like to say, "I do, too," but it feels like she might jinx it if she speaks her thought aloud. She just nods.

After, she drives to Ocean Beach. It's mid-afternoon of a beautiful day. There are joggers, families with kids, people flying kites. The waves are gentle. They roll in and out, sucking gently at the sand. She slips off her shoes and walks. Far off, she can see sailboats. Her eyes scan the piles of driftwood and tangled kelp. She can't get the images out of her mind: the beautiful Alison of the photographs, and the one that showed up in the emergency room.

After, she drives over to his building. She knows she shouldn't.

There are bars for this sort of thing, bars she knows, far from the precinct. A man will slip onto the empty barstool next to her and offer to buy her a drink. It's Friday, and the loneliness hits her hard.

She rings the buzzer and he says, "Who is it?"

"Me," she says, and he lets her right in.

Maybe, she thinks, they can just sit and talk and watch the sun fall away through his living room window. Maybe he'll put on some music: jazz would be nice. She'd really like to forget about her life for a while.

When she steps off the elevator, he's waiting at the open door to his apartment. He's in a white T-shirt and jeans, and he's barefoot, as if he just came in from an afternoon of sunning himself on the deck. It's that last detail that almost breaks her heart. "What's wrong?" he says right away.

"I -- I have some news," Katniss says.

He leads the way to the living room. She sees the bottle of Jameson's on the coffee table, the glass next to it half-full, and says, "I'll have what you're having."

Then: _What will we talk about? I don't want to talk about Alison._

The burn of the whiskey is good. She takes two big gulps and sits back on the couch, relaxed. He's looking at her with a strange intensity. Oh! There's something she's been meaning to ask him --

"So, the first time you used the escort service?"

He stiffens. Clearly he was not expecting that.

"What was her name?"

"Ocean."

"That is _not_ a fucking name," she blurts out and, just for good measure, adds, "Ha. ha."

He's not laughing with her, though, so she figures that Ocean must be a girl's real name. He doesn't remember her last name, but she was Korean American. Katniss makes a mental note to google the name on the escort service's website.

She then tells Peeta (when did she move on from thinking of him as Mellark?) that she spoke to the doctor who treated Alison. Which puts both of them in an extremely depressed mood. There goes the sun, slipping towards the horizon, and she can't enjoy the gorgeous view (she means, the view inside -- Peeta sitting on the couch next to her -- as well as outside). She hasn't even told him the part about the police officer who took Alison to the ER. But she guesses he probably figured that out already.

"Thanks for the drink," she says, knowing she has to leave.

"No problem," Peeta says.

Ugh. She shouldn't have downed the whiskey so fast. The room looks a little tilted. She feels her eyes closing. Her head drops. Someone gently takes the glass from her hand.

"Sleep," she hears Peeta say. "Nap. I'm not going to touch you. When you wake up, then you can go, all right?"

When she woke up, it was dark in the apartment and for a few terrifying moments she didn't remember where she was. But when she remembered, she was in a hurry to leave. She didn't bother looking for Peeta. He'd slipped off her boots, lined them up by the sofa, and draped a blanket over her. She got up, carrying her boots with her and trying not to make a sound. She closed the door as softly as she could and slipped her boots on in the hallway.

 

 


	19. LESSONS ON HOW TO BE MORE THAN JUST A WARM BODY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of detective work is pieced together in your head. It is what it is.

Katniss is watching the street in front of 1224 Sutter Street from a Starbucks on the corner. Her hair's loose, she's in a tan coat and leggings. She wants to blend, to look like any young woman on any street in San Francisco, not a cop who's looking for Ocean Dinh. That's a real name. Katniss knows because she googled the girl. 24 years old. She worries that something might happen to Ocean, like something happened to Alison. Peeta said he was only with her twice. So maybe whoever it is who's been following him around hasn't started as far back as a year ago? Doesn't even know about Ocean? And maybe Katniss's trying to contact her will only put Ocean in danger?

God, all these thoughts. She has a headache. The coffee she's nursing is cold. It could be that Ocean doesn't ever show up at the escort service. After all, Peeta met her elsewhere. And what need would she have to come in, unless Effie called her? Ocean lives everywhere and nowhere. Her California drivers license has an old address. She hasn't lived there for over a year. That's at least what the landlady told her. Katniss dredged up an e-mail (She is nothing if not dogged). The email went through (marked time received). No answer. Of course.

And she's not sure, either, that this keeping an eye out for Ocean is what she should really be doing, or whether she should be pushing the other case, Eva DeLancey. She's interviewed everyone at the bar, from the bartenders to the waitresses. She's interviewed Eva's friends, her ex, her family, her schoolmates, the school where she taught. The bar had surveillance videos which showed Eva talking to Peeta, but there was nothing particularly intimate about their postures. They bent towards each other, as if it was difficult to make out what the other was saying. But there was no handholding or kissing or anything. In fact, it was Eva who initiated contact, putting a hand on his shoulder while he was seated at the bar. He had turned, seen her, and they had spent the next half hour just chatting. Then someone else had cut in and Peeta had left. Alone.

She's also having trouble handling her feelings about Gale. She was so thirsty for friends when she started at the precinct, and he was the first colleague who was actually nice to her. After a month or so, she began to notice a bombardment of e-mails -- maybe contact short of stalking. She shouldn't have let it go, but she needed his friendship.

Now, that behavior is what tells her to believe Dr. Odair. Sure, it sounds like Gale.

In her mind, she's pieced together the motivation:

Gale and she met Peeta for the first time when they were interviewing him regarding the murder of Eva DeLancey. From the first, Gale was prickly about him. Accused Katniss of finding him attractive (which he was, obviously, it didn't take a village to figure that out). A few months later, Alison Gray, escort, accuses Peeta of beating her up? Wasn't that just after the encounter on Market Street? Gale had been chasing Katniss down (she'd gotten an early start on walking around the Pro-Life parade perimeter). She's almost sure now he'd seen Alison and Peeta before she did. Maybe he even got to watch Katniss's reaction to seeing Peeta with the woman.

And now Alison's disappeared.

God.

Since then, he'd been really, really pushy -- trying to get her to agree to go out with him again (Never, she made that clear a long time ago)

She had to report him to Plutarch. Had to. But in doing so, she may have destroyed herself.

Katniss is the type of person who might get aggressive on the street, but never in the precinct. When it comes to dealing with her fellow officers, she much prefers passive aggression and will do almost anything to avoid confrontation. Perhaps it's a form of cowardice. But it's what she felt she had to do, to survive.

She hoped that, if she "played nice," people would leave her alone, would come to accept that, with her, they could expect nothing more than low-frequency exchange. She waited days before replying to messages, if at all. She never instant-messaged or texted, especially if it was another police officer. Especially after Gale.

That said, this morning she got a text from Peeta. It was nothing. By some strange coincidence, it was almost the exact line used by the annoying Starbucks customer: _Are you there? Everything all right?_

It had been almost a week since the time she'd gotten drunk in his apartment. She was thinking she should send him a short, cheerful response, but she decided against sending him anything at all.

She trusts that he can take care of himself; he should trust that she can take care of herself, too. If she were going to have a nervous breakdown (she feels so close, sometimes) or in need of physical assistance, she knows there are professionals she can talk to. And those would never be Peeta. He didn't need her. He needed a warm body. That's not what she is. She deserves to be more. That is what she told herself after Cato. And after Gale.

Despair grips her. She's lost all her friends. All of them.

She forces her mind back to the task at hand: finding Ocean Dinh.

Peeta says that Effie Trinket, the owner of the escort service, is really nice. He's met her in person, twice. They've talked on the phone, and have e-mailed. He said she doesn't let anyone take her girls out until she's met them in person and vetted them, done all the background checks, that sort of thing. She doesn't advertise in the yellow pages. Everything's strictly on a referral basis.

Who referred Peeta, she wonders vaguely.

She doesn't want to go back to the precinct. For the next several weeks or months, she's going to gumshoe all the way.

She's so deep in thought that when a man actually takes the seat next to her and starts talking, it doesn't occur to her that he's talking to her until he snaps his fingers in front of her face and says, "Are you there? Anybody home?" She gives him a scorching glance. A normal person would have been able to read her annoyance. But, because the universe hates her, this man is so encouraged by her glancing at him that he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, beautiful -- " She turns, quickly, twisting the arm that goes with the hand.

"Hey! Jesus! Ouch! Let go of me!"

"Fuck off! You'd better not make me say it again!" she hisses.

"Psycho bitch!" the man says.

Katniss walks out of the Starbucks, leaving the man cursing his head off.

*     *     *     *

As it turns out, the day turns out to be one of Katniss's best ones. Because it's the day she gets her first real break in the case: she runs into Ocean Dinh.

She just walks into the Starbucks, as Katniss is walking out. She has an air of distraction. Katniss is on her way out, so she keeps walking. But, instead of leaving, she waits just outside the door, peering in through the window.

Ocean is beautiful: thick, dark hair, fastened in a loose bun. Cat's eye eyeliner. Coach tote bag. Cigarette jeans, oversize sweater, booties. She places her order, then stands to the side, waiting for her name to be called. Of course, the perv who hit on Katniss is eyeing Ocean as well.


	20. KATNISS & OCEAN

"Leave me alone!" Ocean hisses at the man.

Naturally, he doesn't take the hint. Suddenly, someone grabs the man by the back of his jacket and pulls him backwards. "Hey!" he splutters.

"You heard the lady," Katniss hisses.

"You!" the man says, his eyes widening as he recognizes Katniss. He scrambles away quickly.

Ocean glances warily at Katniss. "Thanks," she says curtly. Her name is called, and she moves to retrieve her drink.

"No problem," Katniss says. "I hate creepers. He tried to bother me, too."

Ocean gives her a tight smile and heads for the exit with her drink. "Hey! You're Ocean, right?" Katniss says.

Ocean's eyes widen. For a brief moment, they show alarm. Then, the mask drops. "Who are you?" she asks. "How do you know my name?"

Katniss's mind darts around frantically before she finally settles on a suitable answer: "I use the service. Your profile says you do F/F as well as . . . the other stuff."

"Oh," Ocean says. Her shoulders drop. "I thought you were a cop. What's your name?"

"K-Ripley," Katniss says quickly.

"Kripley?" Ocean says.

"No, Ripley," Katniss says.

"And you've met Effie," Ocean says.

"I'm just on my way to," Katniss says.

"Because all our appointments are made by her," Ocean says.

"I know that," Katniss says. "I just can't believe I bumped into you like this. I've been thinking of meeting up with you for months. You're very beautiful."

Ocean smiles. It seems genuine. "You're not bad yourself," she says. "I look forward to our first appointment."

"Yeah, me too," Katniss says. She can't let Ocean leave just yet, though, so she tries again: "Where are you off to now? I mean, maybe I could walk with you for a bit, and we could get to know each other better."

"Sure, I'm just getting my hair colored, it's only a few blocks away. At the Aveda Institute?"

"I know it!" Katniss says. "You go there? Are they really expensive?"

"No," Ocean says. "In exchange for you letting students practice on your hair, they charge only half of what most other salons in this area charge. My stylist's Lisa. She's the best. She's been doing my hair for almost a year now."

By now, Ocean and Katniss have exited the Starbucks and are walking west on Bush, towards the Financial District. Katniss notices that more than a few suits are casting appreciative glances Ocean's way. She really is a beautiful woman.

"So," Katniss says again. "What are you planning to have done?"

Ocean wrinkles her nose. "Just a temporary -- nothing too drastic. A few purple highlights. I know, it sounds a bit questionable to me. But it's what one of my regulars wants. He likes the punk aesthetic."

Katniss laughs. The punk aesthetic? She's never heard that one before.

"Well, you don't have to worry about changing anything for me," Katniss tells Ocean.

"Really? That's wonderful," Ocean says. She lets her glance roam over Katniss. "You're very beautiful. Have you always been a lesbian?"

"Oh, I'm not a lesbian," Katniss says, blushing furiously.

"But -- " Ocean says, her eyes narrowing.

"I mean -- " Katniss says. "I'm a movie actress." _Damn it, Kat!_ "To prepare for my role, my director says I have to have at least one lesbian experience."

"Oh! Interesting," Ocean remarks. "Well, we're here! I look forward to seeing you, Ripley!"


	21. ANOTHER HOMICIDE

New homicide. Woman victim -- Katniss thinks she sees a spike in women victims.

This one's been shot, her body dumped in an alley off Taylor.

Her name's Brandy Simone. Katniss's first thought: Is that a real name?

Katniss is down with Annie Cresta in Forensics. Brandy's body is laid out on the autopsy table.

"Victim was 21, 112 lbs., 5'2". Two shots at close range," Annie says. "She didn't have a chance."

The girl's got scrapes on her belly.

"What are these?" Katniss asks.

"Looks like those are from a chain link fence," Annie says. "She tried to climb before she was gunned down."

Both Annie and Katniss are silent for a few moments.

"Was she sexually assaulted?" Katniss finally asks.

"I'll be able to tell you in a few minutes," Annie says, frowning slightly.

"It never gets any easier, does it?" Katniss asks.

Annie shakes her head. She looks up. "That's a positive on the sexual assault."

Katniss stands.

"Any suspects?" Annie asks.

"A few," Katniss says, starting to walk away. Brandy had been at a party till the wee hours. Things hadn't gone so well for her after.

"Good luck," Annie says.

Katniss walks to the elevator, deep in thought. Two shells were retrieved from Brandy's body. The report hasn't come back yet from Ballistics.

No witnesses have come forward. Yet.

There were reports she had a boyfriend. Was the boyfriend at the party? And if he was, did _he_ kill her?

Her phone vibrates. It's Thresh, her new partner.

"Hey," she says. "Anything?"

"The boyfriend goes by Smuts. A member of a street gang. He was seen with her at the party, but he left alone."

"Interesting. Got a last known?"

"Yeah. Folsom and 24th. Wanna head there?"

"Coming up."

Of course, it just happens to be a beautiful day. One of the most beautiful days San Francisco has seen so far, this year. The address is directly across from a pot shop. A sign in the window of the shop says: BEST PURPLE KUSH. Katniss makes a note of it without comment.

The weed smell gets stronger as they mount the stairs. Thresh knocks on the door. "Larry Smuts!" he shouts.

After several moments, the door swings open. A bald, beefy man stands there. His arms are covered with intricate tattoos. There are three dots beneath his right eyelid.

"Are you Larry Smuts?" Thresh asks.

"Yeah. What's this about?" Smuts asks.

"You've got a couple of outstanding traffic warrants," Thresh says.

Smuts's face twists in disbelief. "What traffic warrants?"

"We'll give you a chance to explain down at the station," Thresh says. "Taking you in."


	22. THE CASE OF KITTY GENOVESE

If there's one thing Katniss Everdeen, police detective, has learned in her short life, it's that denial is dangerous.

It's the easiest coping mechanism, therefore the most dangerous.

Stuff can't save you.

Degrees can't save you.

And, to the hoi poloi of Nob Hill, not even your 260-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets can save you.

Neither will other people.

In the Police Academy, they make you study the case of Kitty Genovese: March 13, 1964, New York City. Kitty was a 28-year-old woman who was attacked one night after returning from her job as a bartender at a local watering hole. She screamed for help. The attacker ran off, but seeing that no one came to the young woman's aid, he returned and finished the job. The attacker made off with $49 from Kitty's wallet. 38 neighbors testified that they had heard her screams. Only one made a call -- to a girlfriend, to debate whether to get involved. The answer was no.

Kitty Genovese died in the arms of the one neighbor who went out into the hallway to help her.

The case is used to demonstrate the law of Diffusion of Responsibility: if enough people witness a crime, they feel less inclined to assume the responsibility for action. If there had only been one or two people around to witness the attack, chances are that one or both of those witnesses would have acted. But because, in Kitty's case, the witnesses were an entire building of people, no one wanted to assume responsibility, and no one (except for the one neighbor, who ran out into the hallway just in time to hold Kitty as she lay dying) acted.

Another case: the family of Anne Frank. It is so clear from reading her diary that she felt ultimately she and her family would survive the Holocaust. Why? Because their protectors were good people. Their neighbors would protect them. The Franks were surrounded by a raft of goodness in a sea of evil. Did that save them? No.

Katniss Everdeen knows how evil works. Just look at what happened with her and Cato. In that case, the evil happened incrementally. If things happen slowly enough, you adjust. And then you keep on adjusting. Until it's too late.

Yes, that is what happened with Cato. By the time the really bad stuff with him started happening, she was in too deep. And by the time she got out of that relationship, she was so shaky that a relationship with Gale had seemed like a good idea.

But with Gale, she'd been quicker to recognize the signs. Which was a good thing, Katniss shrugs.

She used to think Evil was the domain of crazy people. Now she knows: that was just another form of denial.

She doesn't think Plutarch knows about Cato, and certainly not about the relationship's ugly aftermath. Plutarch's the closest she has to a father now; if he ever found out, he would be devastated.

Katniss sits at Working Girl Café, waiting for Ocean. For some reason, Ocean trusts her. Katniss didn't even have to go to Effie. It's a relief she didn't have to meet Effie. She's sure Effie would have seen right through Ripley, the actress doing research for a role.

She can't help eavesdropping on the two women sitting at the next table. One of the women tells the other: "I had a really good idea for a video game: My heroine time-travels through space. I wouldn't make her super-butch, just so you know . . . "

The other woman responds, "I can refer you to an artist. She's really talented at creating terrain . . . "

Katniss rolls her eyes. Just then, Ocean appears.


	23. COFFEE WITH OCEAN

This is their third meeting, and their second coffee "date."

Turns out Ocean might be a tad lonely. She asked Katniss for her number, and Katniss gave it readily (though with one number off -- she doesn't want Ocean reaching her. Not really) Katniss just happened to be at the Starbucks on Bush and Grant when Ocean walked in again. It seemed that Ocean was looking for her, because on first entering her eyes scanned the room. When her eyes landed on Katniss, they lit up.

So far, Ocean's been talking about books. She loves to read. Her current book is The Tale of Genji, by Lady Murasaki Shikibu. Katniss writes the book title down. Ocean's a fast reader. She reads an average of two books a week, she tells Katniss.

The book she just finished, before starting on The Tale of Genji, was Sei Shonagon's Pillow Book.

"That's an interesting title," Katniss remarks.

"It's an amazing book," Ocean says. She recites the opening line: "In spring, it is the dawn that is most beautiful."

"Wow, that's great," Katniss says. She says it sincerely. "You have a very good memory."

"In summer the nights . . . " Ocean begins, then cuts off abruptly.

"Is that another quote?" Katniss asks. "Why'd you stop?"

"Ah, umm. I just saw someone. Can we take our coffees outside?" Ocean asks.

Katniss looks up. Who does Ocean recognize? Her eyes do a quick scan of the room. There's no one here from the precinct. Over in a corner, she catches a glimpse of blonde hair, and her heart freezes. That couldn't be . . .

"Do you recognize someone?" Katniss asks Ocean, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I think I just saw one of my clients," Ocean whispers.

"Okay," Katniss says. "Let's go."

She and Ocean stand uncertainly on the sidewalk for a few moments. "Want to walk to Chinatown?" Katniss asks finally. "There's a great place called Dragon Papa . . . "

"Oh, I know it!" Ocean says. "Love their mochi!"

"Then let's go," Katniss says, smiling.

After a few moments, Katniss asks, "So, how's your week been going?"

"Good," Ocean says, shrugging. She seems indifferent.

"Got any interesting appointments?" Katniss asks.

Ocean's face twists. "I don't really like to talk about my job," she mutters.

"That's all right," Katniss says. "I don't like to talk about my job either."

"How can you say that?" Ocean says. "Aren't you a movie actress?"

"Yeah, but I mostly play bit roles . . . " Katniss says, hoping Ocean doesn't press her for specifics.

"I think you'd make a very good actress," Ocean says.

Katniss's heart skips a beat. "Oh yeah? What makes you think so?"

"Well," Ocean says, "You're very sympathetic to people. You're a really good listener. And you have a big heart."

"You know all that about me?" Katniss asks curiously.

"Yes," Ocean says, smiling. "And I'm very good at reading people. I have to be, in my line of work. If I wasn't, I'd be -- " her voice trails off.

"You'd be what?" Katniss prompts.

"I'd be -- not so good at my job," Ocean finishes.

"Oh. I get it," Katniss says. "You're talking about protecting yourself. When you're with -- clients."

Ocean doesn't say anything.

"I'm sure Effie vets your clients pretty carefully -- "

"Well, most of the time -- "

"What do you mean?" Katniss asks.

Ocean looks very uncomfortable.

"Are there times when clients -- mistreat you?"

"No, no, that's never happened to me," Ocean says.

"But -- has it happened to someone else?" Katniss presses.

Ocean nods once, quickly. Then glances quickly around them. Her next question catches Katniss completely off-guard, "Ripley, do you believe in fate?"

She has to do a double-take. Ocean is watching her carefully, so she decides she can't afford to BS now: "No," she says firmly.

"What about sin? Do you believe that there's such a thing as sin?" Ocean asks. Before Katniss can answer, Ocean covers her face with both hands and begins to sob.

Katniss wraps her arms around the other woman and holds her tightly. "Everything's okay," she says, as soothingly as she can. "You're going to be okay."

After a few moments, Ocean wipes the tears from her cheeks and straightens. "None of my family knows what I do," she whispers. "If my father and brothers knew, they would be so ashamed. They would beat me." 

Katniss keeps an arm around Ocean. The girl leans against her. "Last year, I had a boyfriend. I was in love. I gave him my virginity. Right after that, he left me. I saw him around, with another girl. That's when I signed with Effie."

 


	24. HELLO AGAIN, OLD FRIEND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter, I know. I decided to slip it in so you don't all forget about Peeta. For sure, Katniss hasn't.

There he is. She walks right up to him. "What are you doing here?" she demands.

"Having fro-yo," he says, handing the money to a young woman behind the counter whose smile is ridiculously wide for someone getting paid for a small cup.

"Yeah? It's a block from my apartment," she says.

"So? It's a free city, Everdeen," Peeta says, turning away from her.

Damn. She cannot stand that his trousers fit him so well, that his tailored shirt is tapered and shows off his trim waist, that his hair is neat and smells fresh -- yes, she can smell him, even from three feet away.

"You got thin, by the way," he says.

Instinctively, she crosses both arms over her chest. What? Why is she suddenly self-conscious?

"Bullshit," she says.

He turns back to her. "How's it going?" he asks, not a trace of irony in his tone.

"Things are going well," she says.

"I figured. Your friend hasn't been by to see me lately."

"Oh? Well, he's got bigger fish to fry now. I suppose."

"Huh. Too bad. I kinda enjoyed our interactions."

"Please," Katniss says.

"Any word on Alison Gaynor?" he asks.

"Says the last guy who fucked her."

"What makes you think I'm the last guy who fucked her?"

She shakes her head. What is she even doing? She takes a deep breath, turns, and starts to walk away. She doesn't realize she expects him to say something until she's gotten to her building. The silence behind her is unexpectedly disturbing.

_Keep walking._

_"_ I'd say there's a pretty good chance your partner might be that guy."

She slips inside her building, refusing to look back.


	25. FOURTH COFFEE WITH OCEAN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a light chapter. Hope it's good for a few chuckles.

This is their fourth meeting, and by now it's getting hard for Katniss to keep up the actress ruse. For one thing, she doesn't have the lingo. For another, Ocean seems to know most of the movies that are filming in the area.

 _Huh, she must have auditioned for a few parts herself_ , Katniss thinks. _I should have said I was a nurse._

"So, who's the director?" Ocean asks soon after they've ordered their macchiatos. She's wearing (for her next client) a metallic sheath dress, very short, just skimming the tops of her thighs, and black booties. Her legs look fantastic.

_She must wax._

Katniss thinks of her own legs, cris-crossed with tiny, tell-tale scars, then swallows.

_Hope she doesn't ask to see my legs or anything like that. But why would she ask to see my legs? Unless she expected us to --_

"Some creep. I'd prefer not to say his name aloud. Definitely the type who expects the women to fawn over him."

"Oh, I know the type. I'd have to deal with a few of those," Ocean says.

"As clients?" Katniss asks.

"Yeah," Ocean says airily. "They are all talk and small pencil dicks."

Katniss bursts out laughing. Then she looks directly into Ocean's eyes and says, "The first time we met, you got uncomfortable because you said you recognized a client. Was he the blonde guy?"

Ocean freezes. "The first time we met? You remember that?"

_Uh-oh._

"Yeah. I was -- kinda intrigued. A blonde guy came into the Starbucks. Medium height, nice shoulders, blue eyes. That's the guy you meant, right?"

Ocean looks narrowly at Katniss. "Yeah. What you want with that guy? You an ex?"

Katniss is so surprised that she can't answer right away.

Ocean's lip curls. "I knew it." Her voice starts to shake. "You know, for a minute, I thought you were into girls. I thought you were into _me_."

Katniss bites her lip. "Ocean, look -- " She reaches for the other girl's hand, but Ocean pulls away. "I told you the first time we met, I'm doing research for a role -- "

"Yeah, right. You're no actress, I knew right away. But I say to myself: Ocean, this girl's cute. Maybe, I think, girls better for you. Maybe you can see if this one's into girls. And -- and -- I like you . . . "

_Dammit, Katniss!_

Suddenly, Ocean lunges across the table and presses her mouth onto Katniss's. Katniss sits frozen. Ocean's lips taste like peppermint.

"Now," Ocean says, sitting back, a satisfied smile on her face. "You like?"

"Umm -- " Katniss says, her face flaming. "I -- I -- "

Ocean's face shifts again.

_This girl -- damn!_

"Ocean, look," Katniss says, taking a deep breath. "If I were into girls, I would be into you. I mean, you're gorgeous. I'm sure you've heard that before -- "

"We could try it. Just once. You might like it. I won't even charge you."

Suddenly, a strong hand presses down on Katniss's shoulder. A male voice says, "What's up, babe?" Next thing you know, Peeta's pulling up a chair.

Ocean's gaze flits back and forth between Katniss and Peeta, her tiny rosebud mouth hanging open. "You, you -- !" she finally says to Peeta.

Katniss glares at Peeta. "What are _you_ doing here?" she sputters.

"You're not answering my texts. Check your phone," he says, then fastens a dazzling smile on Ocean. "Were you just hitting on my girlfriend?" he says to her. He shrugs. "I mean, I'm totally down for a three-some, but -- " he gestures at Katniss, still sitting frozen beside him, "I don't think _she_ swings that way. Something about being raised in convent school."

Ocean's lips twitch. "Maybe," she says, leaning forward and placing a delicate hand over Peeta's, "maybe we can persuade her. Please?"

Katniss's eyes drop to the hand Ocean's placed over Peeta's. She peels it off like she's picking up something with a handkerchief. "No," she says.

Ocean stands, a small smile on her face. "You work on your girl, lover," she says to Peeta. "In the meantime," she rests a hand on his cheek, "give me a call. You and I can have some fun while she's making up her mind."

Peeta smiles at Ocean, his face full of light. Katniss wants to scratch his eyes out. "Yeah -- " he starts to say. Then, he glances quickly at Katniss. He coughs discreetly and straightens. Ocean drops her hand. "We'll discuss it. See you around."

 

 


	26. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

Katniss walks out of the coffee shop minutes after Ocean. And Peeta follows, just a step or two behind.

Katniss gets to the sidewalk and tries to shake him off. "Quit following me," she hisses. "I'm working a case."

"Yeah, and I'm working with you," he says.

"What?" Katniss says. "What? You're not my team!"

Instead of answering, Peeta suddenly flushes and jams both hands into his pockets.

_Damn him! I don't know whether I want to slug him or kiss him! Kissing him would be more fun, but --_

"Fuck off! Leave me alone!" Katniss cries.

"You know you don't mean that," Peeta says, standing too close to her. He's too confident, too smug, too experienced, too -- everything. Too much. Suddenly, he reaches down with both hands, grabs her gently by the back of her neck, and pulls her forward. Before she knows it, his lips are pressed against hers, and -- oh! God, he tastes 10x better than Ocean. So much better. In fact --

Suddenly, she pulls away.

_What are you doing, Katniss?_

Her shoulders hunch. She's mimicking his  pose. The minute she realizes, she starts walking.

"What?" he says, from behind her. Doesn't sound like he's following, which is good. Or bad. Depending on how you look at things.

Good. It's good. _Boundaries_.

"I had to try that just once," he says. There's an ache in his voice. Something new. She keeps walking. "Time is fleeting, Everdeen," he says. "Sometimes, you have to live in the moment."

 _No_. For her, there are no moments. There is only determination.

Her heart clenches and unclenches in a disturbing pattern. What is it with this guy? Why can't she seem to shake him?

"I don't need you watching my back," she yells over her shoulder.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Everdeen."

* * * *

She's about a block from her building when Ocean accosts her.

"Who ARE you?" she yells at Katniss, jumping out suddenly from an alley Katniss didn't notice. "Are you some kind of sick fuck? Answer me!"

"I AM a sick fuck," Katniss tells her.

"Stop messing with my brain!" Ocean screams.

Katniss tries to walk past her. Ocean grabs her arm. "Answer me!" she cries.

Katniss yanks her arm out of Ocean's grasp. She's sick of everything, suddenly. "I don't have to answer you," she growls.

She hears it again. That sound of someone whose heart is being ripped out. She stops. Ocean's face is red. Her hair is a mess. From the neck below, though, she is beautiful.

 


	27. THE FUTURE OF THE POLICE FORCE

Everyone's been called into a meeting. God, at 9 a.m.? That's when Katniss's brain works best, that's when she gets her best insights about a case. Instead, she has to sit at a long rectangular table, surrounded by 10 men and two other women, reading a handout Plutarch's written, called:

THE FUTURE OF THE POLICE FORCE

Is this a joke? There's always going to be a future for the police force, Katniss thinks.

She doesn't want to look at Gale, who sits somewhere at the opposite end of the table. She hasn't said two words to him since she filed her complaint about harassment. Plutarch promised he'd be transferred, but here he still is, a month later. "The wheels of justice work slowly," was all Plutarch could tell her, a few days earlier. "You just have to be patient."

Now Plutarch's reading aloud from his own handout:

IN 2015 WE COMMISSIONED A WIDE-RANGING REVIEW OF THE COMMUNITY'S EXPERIENCES WITH THEIR LOCAL POLICE. WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO HAVE ENGAGEMENT WITH THE POLICE FORCE? MANY TURNED IN THEIR SURVEYS ANONYMOUSLY. WE KNOW THE POLICE HOLD A UNIQUE PLACE IN SOCIETY. WITH THE CURRENT UNREST

What is he referring to, Katniss thinks. What "current unrest"? She yawns.

INFLUENCE THE VALUES OF THE COMMUNITY

She must have missed something.

OTHERS REFERRED TO THE POLICE AS A NECESSARY EVIL.

What?

OTHERS REFERRED TO OUTDATED PRACTICES, AND THE FRUSTRATION OF SEARCH AND RELEASE. MANY EXPRESSED HOPE THAT POLICE OFFICERS WOULD CONTINUE TO BE A FORCE OF STABILITY . . .

NOW, WE ARE EXPERIENCING THE FIRST SERIOUS BUDGET CUTS IN MY HISTORY AS CHIEF OF THIS PRECINCT. THIS HAS PROMPTED ME TO EXAMINE MANY ASPECTS OF OUR OPERATIONS -- WHICH SERVICES WORK BEST IN OUR COMMUNITY; HOW MANY PERSONNEL DO WE ACTIVELY NEED; THE FEASIBILITY OF NEIGHBORHOOD WATCHES; OUR PUBLIC IMAGE. HOW CAN WE, WITH EXTREMELY LIMITED FUNDS, PROVIDE THE BEST SERVICE WE CAN TO OUR SOCIETY? I DO KNOW THIS: CHANGE IS NECESSARY.

Katniss sits up straight. What is Plutarch talking about? Does he mean there will be layoffs?

She's not the only one who's latched on to this thread. Everyone else in the room seems tense, unable to meet each other's eyes.

She feels hot and cold and hot again. She breaks out into a sweat. She didn't sleep very well last night. Her face in the bathroom mirror this morning was pale.

_Damn you, Peeta!_

She pushes her way out of the room and too late realizes she and Gale are the last ones filing out. She averts her face but he seems to be hanging back deliberately. She picks up her pace -- no, she is not going to talk to him. If he thinks he can bully her into withdrawing her official complaint --

"Hey, Catnip," he says, mock sweetly.

She hates that. She doesn't answer.

"I think we ought to call a truce," he says, in a low voice.

She nods curtly but doesn't say anything. She throws a glance over her shoulder. It makes her uneasy when she doesn't see Plutarch. Did he walk out ahead of her? How could she not have noticed?

Her heart's thudding fast. "Catnip -- " Gale says, putting a hand on her shoulder. She swats it away. "Don't!" she warns.

He folds his arms and looks at her, a smirk on his face.

She pushes her way past.


	28. KATNISS, YOU NEED A DRINK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little bit of role-playing in this chapter, especially at the end.
> 
> Katniss's deepest fear is that she's just playing a role, that she's just pretending to be a police officer, that deep inside she really doesn't care, and she tries to cover it up by trying to become the best police officer she can be . . . and that self-doubt is what makes her vulnerable. And what also makes her resist Peeta with all her might.

Katniss is sitting in her living room, after what she thinks has been the worst day of her life (meetings kill her, absolutely kill her). Or maybe it's the cheap tequila that's making her morose, she hasn't indulged in a while, she had to make a special trip to the store for this bottle.

She used to be a vodka and Malibu rum type of gal, but tequila just seemed easier tonight.

Her dad used to have Guinness with hard lemon cider; that was his drink of choice. In fact, he taught Katniss how to prepare it for him when he got home from work. He had been a controlled drunk, a functioning alcoholic. That had never been Katniss's way. After he died, she became a flat-out messy drunk.

_Fucking unbelievable._

Are her lips still aflame? Drink again. That's it.

She shuffles through her playlist: One Direction, yeah. Her guilty pleasure. She has this secret crush on Harry Styles. Hey, he's a good guy. Donates to disaster relief, a million to the Philippines after Typhoon Haiyan.

She lifts the bottle in honor of cheap tequila and Harry Styles.

She knows his group's split up and it's a different Harry Styles now. Maybe he'll sing about good girls who are devils in the bedroom. She can be different, too.

She raises her arms and starts to sway in time to the music. Yeah! She remembers going to one concert. One.

She stands up, starts sashaying. That feels _gooood_! Again. Her nerves are jangling.

She remembers her first forays into OK Cupid, the sweaty hands, the neon lights of a club, her dress getting sticky with sweat and spilled beer. "Hi, I'm Katniss, it's really nice to fuck with you." Ha!

Her eyes land on the window behind the TV. What did Peeta say, so long ago? _You didn't even notice the hand-prints I left on the window_. She never checked. Such a big-talking man. She stares at the window. She keeps staring.

_Cut it out, Katniss._

Her head lolls back on the sofa. Now she's listening to Kings of Leon. What if she'd become a rock singer instead of a police officer?

The blonde man in the first row can't tear his eyes away. He loves her moves.

 _You and me_ , she mouths. _Later_.

He nods.

If she only knew: a mile away, in his glittering apartment overlooking the dark waters of the Bay, someone else's lips are burning, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add in that very last line about Peeta. Okay, I know I said this was story was never going to be from his point of view. But I think, even though it's in close third person, I'm allowed to give you the "birds-eye" view of what's happening to these two people who are so powerfully longing for each other (from afar).
> 
> And, having said to all that there will never be a Peeta chapter (meaning, from Peeta's POV), I just may have found the right moment. Stay tuned.


	29. ARTICLES OF FAITH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Peeta POV chapter I said I'd never write, lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chose to extend this chapter rather than start a new one. We will see what happens! First, should Katniss accept Peeta's invitation or not? She's never been to Davies Symphony Hall.

Peeta's fingers drum absently on the table in front of him. The TV's on, but he's barely listening. Opinions, news on the latest threats to internet security, it's all blending into one low murmur of noise.

He's angry about today, but not at Katniss. He's angry at himself. He decided months ago that he could never abandon her, no matter how stubborn or recalcitrant she was being. There was something about her -- even when she was coming on tough, she moved him deeply. He was scared for her. And, as she dug deeper and deeper into the cases of the various murdered women, he found he couldn't sit back and do nothing. Was he, Peeta Mellark, finally beginning to care?

"False heroes fiind it easier to make war than deal with the emptiness in their own souls." The quote was from Thich Naht Hanh, a book of the sage's journals he'd stumbled across while wandering in southeast Asia, the year after his marriage fell apart. The sage advocated a kind of engaged Buddhism, and for a while Peeta had believed in it, believed in the principles of non-violence and compassion.

Then he'd returned to the States, and the divorce itself had been so dispiriting, and his weaknesses once again went on full display, and in particular that weakness, the one that had ruined his marriage.

The fact that women were a fixed point of both love and hatred: years of therapy had told him there was residual anger from childhood experiences. It was a cliché to say he blamed it on his mother but yes he blamed it on his mother. He can still remember every disparaging word she ever said to him: it's as if they're etched on his skin, in his brain.

"You will find someone to love you, Peeta. And you are fully deserving of that love," the psychiatrist had told him. "You can choose to be peaceful and not angry. It is all within your grasp."

Perhaps he hadn't been prepared for how hard he'd have to work.

What was the other thing Thich Naht Hanh had said? "The question is whether you have the determination and diligence."

He had an absent father, a rage-filled mother, and a childhood characterised by abandonment and violence. But so what? He was a grown man. He didn't need anyone's approval.

And then she'd come into his life. Katniss Everdeen, policewoman. And ever since meeting her, he'd found himself questioning his every move, asking himself: What would Katniss think if I did this or that?

Who cared?

Well, he did. He knew that. That question had been decided quite some time ago.

Her job required a deep commitment to helping others. She was ready to die to uphold that commitment, Peeta knew it. She was one of those beings who Thich Naht Hanh described as "irrepressible: Wherever such persons are found, flowers blossom, even in the depths of hell."

 _I'll kill anyone who touches you_ , Peeta thinks. _I will._

_*     *     *     *_

Katniss isn't feeling all that good now. Her head aches. Her phone vibrates; she glances at it with bleary eyes, sees who's calling, and straightens up a bit. For a moment, she agonizes. Then, she swipes to answer. Clears her throat.

"Yes?" she hates. Her voice sounds scratchy.

"Sorry," Peeta says. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, nah-ah," Katniss says, shaking her head.

_He can't see you, so why are you shaking your head, you idiot._

"I was just wondering -- we got off on the wrong foot -- "

 _To say the least!_ Katniss thinks.

"So I thought, you know, I have two tickets to a concert this Saturday . . . "

"A concert? What kind of concert?" Katniss asks.

_Does she sound interested?_

"Classical music. It's this young pianist, she's really great: Yuja Wang? Won the New York Times International Piano Competition when she was just 16?"

Katniss has never heard of her. She says, "Oh yeah. Pretty."

_Why did she say that?_

There's a pause. "She's staying at my hotel and she always gives me two complimentary tickets to her performances at Davies, so I was just wondering if -- "

_Is he asking me out on a date?_

"It's not a date, I promise," Peeta says hastily. "Just a peace offering. But I understand, classical music's not your scene -- "

"I'll go," Katniss says.

_Whaaat? You don't even have anything to wear!_

_"_ Great!" Peeta says. "Concert's at 8, but there's a pre-concert talk at 7, if you'd like to go to that as well. And we could have early dinner . . . "

"Fine, fine. Just text me the details. I have to go."

"Thank you, Katniss."

_Did Peeta Mellark just thank me?_


	30. A DISCOVERY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DARK matter. Don't read if you're squeamish.
> 
> Alison's been found.

"Body's been found, Everdeen," Thresh says.

"Where?" Katniss says. Her throat's gone dry.

"Over on the Peninsula. Palo Alto," Thresh says.

"You think it might be -- ?"

_Please don't let it be Alison._

Thresh is slow in responding. "Well, it fits the parameters."

The marked off area's by a creek on the Stanford University campus. At night, according to campus policemen, that area is completely deserted. There aren't even any walkways or lights. Just ancient Eucalyptus trees.

"How long you figure she's been here?" Katniss asks the first policeman on the scene. Young guy, very pale. His hands are shaking.

"Well, from the way she's been chewed up -- " he doesn't continue.

"Chewed up?" Katniss asks.

"Coyotes maybe. There've been a few sightings around campus." The young man stops suddenly and gets a strange look on his face.

"This your first dead body?" Katniss asks.

He swallows. "Yeah."

"Go get some coffee," Katniss says.

It might not be her. No one will know for sure until they find the head. Whoever did it knows that dental records are the surest way to ID a body.

_He's smart._

But why assume it's a he?

_Well, because of the extent of blunt force trauma. She fought back, too, judging from the condition of her limbs._

Thresh comes back. He looks just as upset as she.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," he says.

"Yeah, I know," Katniss says. "Where are the students who found her -- "

"They're waiting over there. I just took their statements," Thresh says.

Katniss walks over to the two young women. They're both in running shorts.

"So, you come running here regularly?" she asks.

"No," says the taller woman. She's got long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes are a little red. "First time in a few weeks. End of quarter, you know how that goes."

"You mind running through it for me, one more time?" Katniss asks.

The younger woman, stocky and black-haired, takes a deep breath. "I tripped over her foot," she says. "It looked like a body. I don't know, I'm in Hum Bio."

She pauses. The taller woman puts a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I fell down. I was cursing up a storm. Then I thought I saw -- a hand. I think it was a hand. Everything was detached. I just couldn't -- " She covers her face.

Katniss pats the young woman's shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay," she says soothingly. "You did good. You gave your contact info to my colleague?"

Both women nod. "We don't have to stick around, do we?" the taller woman asks. "I mean, we're on break in a few days."

"No, you don't have to stick around. You'll hear from us if we need more info."

The women walk quickly away. Katniss and Thresh watch them.

"Damn," Katniss says.

"Right you are," Thresh says. "Let's get to work."

They fan out, assisted by a team from Palo Alto. They search carefully, painstakingly going over every inch of ground. But nothing turns up. No weapon, no head.

_What did you do with it, you sick fuck?_

"Think he took it home? Wrapped up in a bag? Stuck it in a freezer? Like Jeffrey Dahmer?" she muses.

Thresh just looks at her.

*     *     *     *

They head back to the City. Thresh offers to drive.

Good. Her brain's in a fog.

She glances vaguely out the window.

_It's so green here. Looks like Ireland. But I've never been to Ireland. Get a grip, Everdeen._

_"_ The investigation'll go on for months." She hasn't realized she's spoken aloud until Thresh says, "Probably."

"Why do they do it?" she asks.

"Who, the killers?"

She doesn't answer.

_Who's going to tell the family?_

"He buried it somewhere," she tells Thresh. "I know he did."

When Katniss gets home, she runs herself a bath. Sinks down into it, thinks. Gets out, wraps herself in a robe, goes to the living room, turns on the TV. The news is on. Outside a suburban family home, a crowd of reporters, and the anguished faces of Alison Gaynor's parents.

_What the fuck? Leave them alone!_

"Do you have any comment about the body that was found in Palo Alto today?" a man says, thrusting his phone almost into the Dad's face.

_Leave them alone, Goddamn you!_

Then she remembers.

_Where is Peeta? Still at work? God, I hope not!_

Then, almost as if the TV's heard her question, the news cuts to a live shot of Peeta. He looks like he might just be leaving the Ritz Carlton. His jaw is clenched. It's chaos: reporters are shouting questions at him, just as they did at Alison's parents. The one difference being that Peeta isn't alone. Katniss recognizes the man trying to lead Peeta through a crowd of reporters: it's Peeta's lawyer.

On the coffee table, her phone starts to vibrate. She lunges for it and checks the number.

"Plutarch," she says tightly.

"You're at home?" her mentor says, sounding more anxious than she's ever heard him sound before.

"Yeah. I'm watching the news. What the fuck is going on? Why are the reporters all over the family? All over Peeta?"

"Stay there, and don't go anywhere, Katniss. Please. Promise me!"

"I'm not gonna promise anything until you tell me what's going on, Plutarch!"

"Just -- it's complicated. Stay right there. I'm coming over."

 


	31. HELL

"What the hell, Plutarch?" Katniss says, throwing the door open in answer to Plutarch's knock.

She regrets the words the minute they're out of her mouth because _he looks like hell_.

"This is a disaster," Plutarch murmurs, rubbing his face wearily.

"I only have tequila," Katniss says. She motions him to the living room and heads for the kitchen.

When she returns, he's sitting on the sofa, her remote in his hand, anxiously flipping through the news stations. "They're all bad," she hears him mutter.

She takes the remote from him and switches off the TV. "You'll just make yourself crazy."

She fills a glass of tequila and hands it to him. He gulps it down as if it's water. She watches him curiously.

"Plutarch," she says. "How old are you?"

"49," he mutters.

He's that old?

"And thank you, too," Plutarch says. "I'm aging faster than a President."

"Who cares?" Katniss says.

Plutarch gives her a weary look. "Glad to see you're taking this so nonchalantly."

Katniss shifts further away from him. "That's a low blow. You know I don't take anything nonchalantly."

Plutarch takes another long pull of his tequila. "Save it. Gale resigned today."

Katniss can't contain her shock. "He did?"

"Yup. Accused the department of singling him out. The corruption in the police department is systemic, quote unquote. Maybe it was the handout."

Katniss suddenly feels awful.

"So when exactly did he turn in his resignation?" she asks.

"This morning."

"While me and Thresh were in Palo Alto."

"Yes. I asked him to clarify his statements, but he declined. 'Talk to my lawyer.' Those exact words."

"I don't believe this. He already hired a lawyer?"

"Yes. Which tells me, this wasn't an impulsive decision. He thought it out, very carefully."

"He knew he was going to be fired."

Plutarch takes another swallow.

"I'm going to have to put you under police protection, Katniss."

"What? Why?"

"Because I think he's going to come after you."

Katniss thinks about that for a moment. Decides she's not afraid.

"I can handle it," she tells Plutarch. "What about you? Wouldn't he want to come after you, too? After all, you took my side."

"I'm not taking any chances," Plutarch says. "Why do you think I'm wearing this?" He taps his chest. Katniss realizes: Plutarch is wearing a bullet-proof vest.

The sick feeling in Katniss's chest intensifies.

"Find anything at the site this morning?"

"Nothing," Katniss says. "Other than a body without a head."

Plutarch grimaces.

* * * *

Katniss insists that Plutarch stay the night.

"You look like shit," she tells him. "You should sleep off the tequila."

He grumbles but agrees. He stretches out on the couch and she provides him with a pillow and blanket. He starts snoring soon after. It's a strangely comforting sound.

Katniss stays up longer, nothing able to quiet the buzz in her head. She mutes the TV but keeps scanning channels. She doesn't want to admit what she's looking for.

She glances uneasily at the window. Should she move? Find temporary digs somewhere? Almost the same moment the idea occurs to her, she rejects it. She's going to meet her fate, whatever that involves, here. Right here.


	32. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Plutarch ends up sleeping straight through the morning. It's almost noon when he rouses, and then Katniss makes both of them coffee. There's not much in her fridge; she can't even offer him a croissant.

Plutarch looks more rested, though. Katniss is happy about that.

"I can go get us some bagels," Katniss offers.

"Don't bother," Plutarch says. "Got any aspirin?"

They're quietly sipping their coffee in the living room when Katniss's phone pings. She checks the message: _How are you holding up?_ It's from Peeta.

"Who's it from?" Plutarch asks. Katniss hesitates. "Oh, go ahead and answer it. I'm not your father."

Katniss casts Plutarch a withering look. "I'll just be a minute," she tells him. She stands and heads for her bedroom. For some reason, she feels uncomfortable texting Peeta with Plutarch in the room.

"I'm fine," she texts back. "You?"

"Fine, too. About tonight. I'm still going."

It takes a moment for Katniss to remember. Oh. The concert.

"Umm, no. Think I'll pass."

"What? That was my peace offering."

She thinks for a moment. "I have someone here," she finally texts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, you're not intruding. I forgot all about it, TBH. Too much excitement. I don't think we should be seen together."

Peeta answers with a series of question marks.

Before she can answer, he texts again: "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need anything?"

She answers: "No. Enjoy the concert."

When she returns to the living room, Plutarch eyes her strangely. "Would you mind if I stayed here the rest of the day? It's much quieter than my own place. And I feel like I need to keep an eye on you."

Katniss snorts. "You don't need to keep an eye on me. I've been taking care of myself since forever."

"No shit. Well, I'm staying."

Katniss sighs. "All right if I go for a run?"

Plutarch says, No.

"If it makes you feel any better, I can take my piece."

"No."

Katniss sighs. They end up watching afternoon talk shows, and then Katniss's stomach gives off a loud grumble.

Plutarch orders a pizza for them, a Mountain Man Marvel, extra large, from her favorite pizzeria, a mom-and-pop place only a few blocks away. Katniss eats over half of it. Plutarch stares at her, open-mouthed. "I had no idea," he says, shaking his head. Then, "Don't you think you should call your mother?"

Katniss swallows. Oh. Of course. She looks down at her phone. Sure enough, there's a string of missed messages.

"I didn't want her to worry," Katniss says.

"I'll do it for you, if you like," Plutarch says.

"No, I'll do it," Katniss says.

She calls. Her mother picks up on the first ring. "Katniss!" her mother practically screams. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I'm sorry. I was -- tied up," Katniss says.

"You were WHAT?" her mother shrieks, so loud it makes Plutarch shake his head at Katniss.

Her mother says, "I'm coming right over."

"Mom," Katniss says. "I'm fine." She hesitates, then says, "Besides, Plutarch is here."

"He is?" her mother says, heaving a sigh. "I'm glad. I can come over for dinner."

Suddenly, Katniss's apartment is turning into a regular meeting hub. "Mom, really. You don't need to."

"Honey, I am your MOTHER. You can't stop me."

After a few moments, Katniss disconnects. "Mom's coming," she tells Plutarch dolefully.

"Excellent!" Plutarch practically cackles.

"And now you can go," Katniss tells him wearily.

"Nope," Plutarch says.

It turns out Plutarch is really, really good at Scrabble. He beats Katniss eight times in a row. She's furious with frustation. They've just started their ninth game when the doorbell buzzes.

Katniss flings open the door. "Mom -- " she says.

But it's not her mother. It's Peeta. He's standing there in a tux, holding a bunch of flowers in one hand, a bottle of what looks like champagne in the other.

"I was on my way to the concert, but I decided I'd much rather give these to you," he says, thrusting the flowers and the champagne into her arms.

"Peeta?" Plutarch says. "How'd you get up here?"

"Umm." Peeta's right hand scrubs nervously at the back of his neck and a deep blush starts to appear on his cheeks. "I didn't realize you were occupied. I'm sorry."

"Katniss, what is he doing here?" Plutarch asks, looking angry.

Katniss turns to Plutarch. "It's not what you think," she and Peeta say, almost at the same time.

"Of all the bone-headed -- !" Plutarch splutters. He turns to Peeta: "Get out."

"Sure!" Peeta says, backing away, both hands held up in a placating gesture.

"Peeta, don't be an idiot. Get in here," Katniss says. "Have you met my boss, Plutarch?"

Peeta eyes Plutarch carefully. "Yes," he says smoothly. He even manages a stiff smile. "Hello, sir, I -- "

"I know who you are," Plutarch says. "What's your business with Katniss? Answer me. Better make it quick!"

"I'm -- " Peeta takes a deep breath. "A friend."

"A friend?" Plutarch says. "What do you mean by that? What kind of friend?"

"A friend as in nothing's happening between us," Peeta says, quickly stepping into the apartment and shutting the door firmly.

"Oh, you expect me to believe that? From reading your files, you have a real hard time keeping it in your pants, loverboy," Plutarch says.

"Plutarch!" Katniss cries. "He's not my type."

Peeta throws her a hurt look. "Well, since we've gotten that out of the way," Peeta says, stripping off his tux, "I'm going to get comfortable."

"I don't think that's -- " Katniss starts. But suddenly Peeta's standing before her in his dark tailored pants and a white undershirt. And Peeta Mellark in a white undershirt is truly a sight to behold.

"Oh God," Plutarch groans. Katniss turns swiftly. But it isn't Peeta her mentor's looking at.

Plutarch scrubs a weary hand over his face. "Katniss, help me out here. I'm _trying_ to understand."


	33. THIS IS NOT A JOKE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Manchester. I'm so sorry.

"What do you want with Katniss?" Plutarch demanded.

Peeta eyes him carefully. His right eyebrow rises. "I'm trying to clear my name, of course," he says. "And find whoever it is who killed Eva DeLancey and Alison Gaynor."

Katniss gapes at him. How does he know about Alison Gaynor?

Plutarch snorts, "And that involves coming to her apartment? With champagne and flowers? I'm sure that will help clear your name."

Peeta shrugs. "No, that was a spur-of-the-moment decision. The flowers and champagne were intended for someone else. Originally."

"Why you lousy, scummy -- " Plutarch blusters.

"Plutarch! Alexander! Heavensbee!" Katniss yells, pushing him away from Peeta. Which makes Plutarch look at her in amazement. "What do you think you're doing?" he hisses.

"He's trying to help. Don't you see -- "

"I'm sure he is. And if he gets you into bed, that's just a side perk, hmm?"

Katniss stares at her mentor. "Tequila," she says, firmly, and starts walking towards the kitchen.

Plutarch grabs her arm. "Just a minute, young lady! You're not done answering my questions!"

Katniss yanks her arm out of Plutarch's grasp. "He invited me to see a concert."

"Which you immediately refused, as it's highly inappropriate for a suspect -- even if he's not currently a suspect -- to hit on the police officer who was investigating him."

"I -- " Katniss makes a frustrated gesture. "I accepted the invitation."

"What?" Plutarch yells. "What?"

"I accepted. I thought I could get some more information out of him."

"Katniss -- " Peeta shakes his head. His tone is light, but his eyes are stormy.

"You were planning to seduce the suspect?" Plutarch says.

"No," Katniss says flatly. "Never seduce him. I could never do that. But I thought I could -- study him a little. His methods."

A pulse twitches in Peeta's jaw. He says, "You didn't have to do that. I would help you anyway."

Now it's Katniss's turn to be surprised. "You would?" she says.

Peeta nods, but for some reason he can't meet her eyes. "I would."

"Why?" she whispers.

Peeta shrugs. "Self-preservation?"

Plutarch jumps in. "All right, since you're being so cooperative," he says to Peeta, "get your ass over to the dining table. I have a lot of questions to ask you. And I'm taking notes."

Peeta looks over at Katniss, a questioning look on his face. She nods. He heads towards the dining room table. After a moment, she follows. Peeta pulls out a chair. Katniss gives it a moment's thought. She ends up pulling out a chair across from him. Plutarch seats himself next to her.

"I'll do the questioning. Just don't get in my way," Plutarch hisses at Katniss.

Katniss bristles. "Excuse me?" she says.

"Jesus H. Christ! I'm your commanding officer!" Plutarch says.

Katniss subsides into her seat. A corner of Peeta's lips twitch. Is he laughing at her?

"Okay, fine. Take it away," Katniss mutters.

Plutarch turns towards Peeta. "All right, Mr. Mellark," Plutarch says.

"Peeta," Peeta says.

"Mr. Mellark," Plutarch repeats, with emphasis. "Describe your relationship with Alison Gaynor."

"There was no relationship," Peeta says.

"Of course I believe you," Plutarch says.

"It's true. I paid for her services. If you define that as a relationship, then okay -- "

"You make a habit of paying for women's services?" Plutarch asks.

Peeta shifts slightly in his seat. "No," he says. Katniss looks away.

"So," Plutarch says. "How'd you meet? You saw her on the street, or she hung out at the Ritz? That her spot?"

"No," Peeta says. He seems annoyed. "Of course not at the hotel. She was a professional. So am I. I use a particular service."

"How many times?" Plutarch asks.

"With her? Twice."

"And you've been with others?"

"A few."

"How long have you been using the service?"

"About a year."

"Jesus, Plutarch, he's been _over_ this," Katniss says.

"It's all right, Katniss," Peeta says evenly. "I expected this line of questioning." He turns to Plutarch. "Despite what you may think of my morals, I am not that sick fuck that gets off seeing women in pain. I don't do BDSM. Handcuffs, whips. Anything like that. Just straight sex. I didn't harm Alison."

 _Jesus_ , Katniss thinks. _I need Xanax. No, Klonopin. Klonopin would be nice._

Peeta continues: "I'm a divorced man, not currently in a relationship. I don't have sex with the guests at my hotel, but I have needs. So I use a service. It's the simplest way. And, by the way, I'm not calling my lawyer. I'm being completely straight and honest with you. Because I -- " he swallows. He nods at Katniss. "I trust her."

"Who's her? Katniss?" Plutarch says.

"Yes," Peeta says.

"Christ, you're both morons," Plutarch says.

Katniss gets up from the table then.

 

 


	34. PEETA AND ALISON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a few who wondered about the end -- Peeta flushing.
> 
> I added a few lines for clarity, lol

"Look, Mr. Mellark," Plutarch says wearily. "I don't think you understand. I'm Katniss's superior, and I don't care about how much you trust her, I care about solving this case. And I will not hesitate to put you back on the suspect list. You may want to give your lawyer a call, in any case."

Peeta shakes his head. "No," he says stubbornly.

Katniss makes a groan of frustration. Plutarch looks at her.

"Do you have something to say, Katniss? Shouldn't you be texting your mother? I believe she should have been here half an hour ago."

"Oh!" Katniss says, flushing. She's completely forgotten about her mother.

Plutarch turns back to Peeta. "You're an intelligent guy. Sophisticated. Well-traveled. But really stupid when it comes to your personal life. I'm telling ya, this escort service thing, it really makes you look shady. It will not endear you to a jury, is what I'm saying."

Peeta's eyebrows quirk up. "Am I your only suspect?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Plutarch says.

"I want to help you," Peeta says. "I want to remember everything Alison told me when we were together. In case it helps."

"Yes, yes, of course it will help," Plutarch says. He drags over a pad of ruled paper that Katniss had handed to him earlier. "I'm going to take notes."

"She was a student at State, and was working part-time to pay off her student loans," Peeta says. "She was a very bright, ambitious girl. She had -- passionate intensity."

Katniss, who's standing by the window with arms crossed, can't help rolling her eyes.

"She wanted to write, said she'd audited some creative writing classes," Peeta continues.

"So you saw her the weekend before she disappeared?" Plutarch asks.

"Yes. She was with me that Saturday and Sunday," Peeta says.

"How much d'you pay for those two days?" Plutarch asks.

"Two thousand five-hundred."

Plutarch whistles. "That the going rate?"

"I guess. Not sure."

Plutarch leans back in his chair. "Interesting," he says. "Do you remember what time exactly you left her on Sunday?"

"She left my apartment at about 4 p.m."

*     *     *     *

By the time Plutarch wraps up the interview, it's two hours later and there's a fine sheen of sweat on Peeta's forehead. It's dark outside. Katniss looks out the window, lost in thought.

Plutarch clears his throat. "Yo, Earth to Katniss! Your mother?"

Katniss drags her eyes over to her mentor. "Oh. She texted me. She'll come tomorrow. I told her you and I were discussing strategy." She gives him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt your interview."

She can't meet Peeta's eyes.

"Are we done?" Peeta asks softly.

"Oh, no," Plutarch says, shaking his head. "I'm just in need of a little sustenance. And Katniss is a terrible cook, so I'm thinking we'll be ordering out."

"I have an account with Meals on Wheels," Peeta says. "I can just have them deliver."

"Oh, no, Mr. Mellark," Plutarch says. "You're being too kind. But I make enough to spring for this. Besides, it's the least I can do considering you've missed your concert." Plutarch glances over at Katniss and his voice softens. "Is there anything in particular you'd like, Katniss?"

Katniss shakes her head. "No, not really."

"Are you okay?" Peeta asks Katniss, his voice full of apology.

"Yup. I'm fine," Katniss says, moving away from the window. "Think I'll go take a shower. I mean -- " she hesitates, looking at Plutarch, "if you don't need me for anything."

"We'll be right here," Plutarch says. "You go take your shower."

Katniss doesn't notice the way both men watch her as she walks to her bedroom. Every muscle in her back and shoulders is knotted with tension. She reaches up a hand to rub the back of her neck and her t-shirt rides up a little. She hears Plutarch say something to Peeta, "You want to continue while we're waiting?"

Katniss goes into her bedroom and shuts the door. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She remembers the doctor. He said Alison had presented with black eyes. Who would want to hurt that woman? Who?

 _I'm going to get you, fucker_ , she whispers. _No matter how long it takes._

Then she thinks about Peeta. _Two-thousand five-hundred dollars for sex? A guy who looks like that? Damn. Alison must have felt like the goose who laid a golden egg. She'd have jumped him for half that. Less than half that. Just -- damn.  
_

_*     *     *     *_

Katniss returns to Plutarch and Peeta half an hour later. She feels clean. Refreshed. Her wet hair is loose. She's still toweling it as she walks to the dining room table.

"Food'll be here any minute," Plutarch says.

"What'd you get?" Katniss asks.

"Falafel, hummus, dolmas, spanikopita," Plutarch says.

"Is that from the Lebanese place on Post?" Katniss says, her stomach giving a loud grumble.

Plutarch's eyes twinkle. "Sure is."

Peeta stares at her. "What?" she snaps. "Did I leave shampoo in my hair or something?" He shrugs and drags his eyes away, his face flushing.

"Jesus Christ," Katniss says. "Stop staring at me like I've grown two heads . . . "

"It's a good look on you," Peeta says softly. "That's all."

"What? The wet-hair look?" Katniss retorts.

"Yeah. It's -- cute."

Katniss flushes a deep red. Plutarch clears his throat.

"Umm. Back in a sec," Katniss stammers. She practically runs to her bathroom and lunges for the hair dryer.

 


	35. WHAT KATNISS HAS IN COMMON WITH EVA AND ALISON

When Katniss comes back out again, her hair completely dry but still loose over her shoulders, Peeta and Plutarch are silent. Too silent. Not that she minds, really. She's had enough of hearing about Peeta's sex life. She wants to go for a run. In fact, maybe she _will_ go for a run, fuck Plutarch. This really makes no sense, running _after_ a shower.

But on the other hand, it's so nonsensical it's practically genius. Because Katniss has just had one of those lightbulb moments. And after months and months of seeing nothing, the inside of her head is suddenly lit up like a carnival: there are flashes of light and glimmers of red and orange, all over.

Peeta looks up at her as she enters the room. His glance takes everything in: the way her hair's now completely dry. He doesn't say anything, just slides his gaze away. Katniss's fingers grasp momentarily at the ends of her hair. Her shoulders tense, then loosen on her next exhalation.

_Fuck you too, Peeta. A girl you fucked is dead._

"So, how much longer?" Peeta asks Plutarch.

"Can you stick around for the next couple of weeks?" Plutarch asks.

Peeta looks surprised. "I wasn't planning on skipping town, if that's what you're thinking," he says.

"Great," Plutarch says, his face impassive. He turns. "And as for you, Katniss -- "

A truck grinds its gears climbing up Stockton. The sound makes Katniss jump. "I'm going for a run," she announces.

"No," Plutarch says.

Katniss stares at him for five seconds, ten.

"That guy, whoever he is, if he's watching me, he'll be out there," she says.

"All the more reason for you not to go running," Plutarch says.

"All the more reason FOR me to run," Katniss says. "I've been thinking: Eva DeLancey, Alison Gaynor -- me," she swallows. "We're a type. We're athletic" -- her face is burning now. Could Peeta please turn his face away? "Dark hair, brown eyes -- "

Now Peeta interjects, "No. It's too dangerous. Tell her, Plutarch."

Plutarch stays silent.

 _I know I'm right_ , Katniss thinks. _I'm this close. You know it, Plutarch._

Plutarch looks at her.

"He'll want me," Katniss says. "Or maybe he already wants me. You can follow. At a distance, of course."

"It's too dangerous."

_Why is Peeta the one objecting?  
_

"I'll be fine," Katniss continues.

_I'll just follow my usual route. The killer knows it already. I can't deviate. Why is Peeta getting up? Wait, doesn't he know my route, too?_

"I'm a good runner," Katniss says. "I'm sure I can outrun him. If he tries anything. Please let me do this, Plutarch."

_Please let me fucking do this. I'll stick to Bush first, go nice and easy. Then I'll head up towards Chinatown._

_"_ No," Peeta says.

_Wait, why is he standing so close to me?_

Katniss feels an unexpected rush of adrenaline and power. How long do she and Peeta stand there like that?

So close, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Then, he breaks away.

"You really want to do this?" Peeta says, looking away from her.

"Yes," Katniss says. "I'll be fine." She doesn't miss the way Plutarch's glance flits between her and Peeta. Plutarch can see this -- whatever "it" is -- between her and Peeta. And much as he likes to be fatherly with her, she knows his cop's instincts won't hesitate to use the chemistry, the undeniable attraction, she and Peeta feel for each other, and apply it to solving this case. He's a realist. That's what makes him such a good cop. In the end, even family's just collateral damage.

Peeta looks at her again. Oh God, he's so good-looking it almost hurts.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Peeta says.

"Well, it's not your goddamn decision," Katniss says.

"Okay, I'll allow it," Plutarch says.

Peeta's blue eyes smolder. "I can't believe you'd willingly sacrifice Katniss," he hisses at Plutarch.

Plutarch gets briskly to his feet. "She's a big girl, Mr. Mellark," he says.

Katniss goes to the hall closet where she keeps her running shoes. She grabs her keys and tucks them into her wristband. Then she heads out of the apartment without looking back. Just before the door closes on her she hears Peeta call out, "Be careful."

*     *     *     *

The door closes on Katniss. Peeta rounds on Plutarch, fists clenched.

"What?" Plutarch says wearily. "You don't understand. She'll never quit. That's what makes her such a good cop. One of my best, in fact."

Peeta starts to put on his dress shirt.

"What are you doing?" Plutarch asks. "You think you can keep up with her?"

Peeta shrugs. "Maybe I could." He slips out the door.

*     *     *     *

Peeta can run pretty fast. Except -- damn dress shoes. It doesn't take him long, despite. Five minutes and he sees her. Those mesmerizing silver eyes, filled with determination. She's not doing what she told Plutarch she said she'd do. She said she'd keep to the flats first. No, she's heading straight uphill. Damn.

He doesn't want to call out, even though he's already feeling winded. People pass him, staring. Why is that man in a tuxedo _running_? He hopes no one recognizes him. He thinks, _Get the fuck out of my way. I need to get to that smoldering, hot woman running a few yards ahead of me. And when I do get to her, I'm going to try and keep her._

Katniss turns her head.

_Has she seen me?_

Peeta's already sucking in long, deep breaths. He knows he's going to have to stop soon. Then he hears a man's voice.

"Hey, beautiful."

_No, no. It can't be._

Clear as a bell, Peeta hears Katniss's response: "Get the fuck away from me."

Katniss has stopped moving. A flow of people eddies around her.

"You look happy," the man says.

"No thanks to you," Katniss responds.

"Oh, come on. I wasn't that bad, was I?" the man says.

Peeta sees them both now: Katniss and the man. They're staring at each other, staring in a way only exes stare at each other, with that mixture of familiarity and scorn. Katniss doesn't seem to realize that Peeta's followed her. Should he intervene, or should he wait? Katniss starts to move away. The man says, "Hey! I'm not done talking to you!"

Peeta steps forward and touches Katniss's forearm. Her skin feels like it's on fire. She looks up at him and pushes the hair off her forehead. He's close enough now to read her expression and it's -- well, she's not happy.

"Let's not talk here, babe," Peeta says, trying to keep his voice light.

"Who _the fuck_ are you?" Cato demands.

Peeta turns to face him. "I'm Katniss's date for the evening," he says.

"Bullshit," Cato says. "Women don't go on dates dressed in running shoes. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

It takes all of Peeta's self-control not to take a swing at the guy. Seriously. _Katniss dated this fucker? What? I thought she had more discernment than that._

"Well, you got me. Whatever," Peeta says. "We're not on a date. She stood me up. At a concert. But I couldn't get her out of my mind. So I went to her apartment. And guess what? I just happened to bump into her. Running. I have to say, sweetie -- "

He turns to Katniss. Or, at least, where he remembers Katniss standing. But she isn't there. _What the fuck?_

Cato starts to cackle. "Looks like sweetheart's ditched both of us."

Peeta gives Cato a self-deprecating smile and starts to edge away from him. "True. I can be big about it, though."

_What the fuck am I doing? You know what, I have no idea. I have no idea what I'm doing.  
_

The hit lands on the side of Peeta's face with no warning.

 


	36. PEETA POV 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just really hope this is not happening too fast?
> 
> I am referring to Peeta's being smitten with Katniss.
> 
> Of course he doesn't know that Katniss is equally smitten with HIM, lol.

Let's just say I do not take what is properly not mine. I do not procure in this manner, not anymore. No more hooking up with women I meet in bars or through an escort service.

I dream about her: I'm taking her for a spin on a cool San Francisco night. She's dressed up, put on a bright lipstick. Her dark hair is long and loose, her skin gives off heat. She smells like apples. No, like cinnamon. No, like lavender. I park somewhere and my hands cup her face. She makes small breaths. She holds back.

I wake up from that dream pretty quickly when a fist hits my jaw. I slide to the sidewalk, and suddenly everything's tilted. There she is! Katniss! She came back! She's looking quizzically down at me. The moment passes. I can't speak. I'm holding my jaw.

This girl just doesn't know when to quit, though. Suddenly, she rounds on the other guy. Oh my sweet Lord, the way she's yelling at him is the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. Life has blessed me. My heart swells in my chest. If I could talk, I would tell her, I love you.

She helps me to my feet. Carefully, she steers me back to her apartment (thankfully, it's all downhill) She keeps talking, but I don't hear a word she's saying. All I know is, she's supporting my body with hers. And Jesus that is sweet. I hope we don't get to her place too soon.

After a few blocks, she stops. Something sinks in: _Are you okay?_

Oh my God, I feel like laughing. I really want to thank the asshole who punched me. I'll take care of him later. As a manager of a Ritz Carlton, I have contacts in the security industry.

"Here we are!" she says, after a bit. And I think, _Damn, that was quick!_ I hear the door to the building open, and someone comes rushing toward us. Before I know it, Katniss is gone and I'm being supported by another body. Ugh. I try and straighten up.

_You're pathetic, Mellark. You're supposed to protect the girl, but the girl wound up protecting you._

I'm surrounded by a babble of voices: What happened? Shouldn't we get him to a hospital?

All I can do is shake my head. A path clears -- it's like the parting of the Red Sea. We're inside. Katniss is back, gripping my arm.

"Quit looking at me, okay?" she hisses. "Try closing your eyes."

"Okay," I mumble.

Plutarch steps into my angle of vision. He holds up something round and lumpy. I instinctively shy away. "Ice, moron," he says.

"Wait!" Katniss suddenly yells. "I just had an idea. Let's get forensics down here."

 _Oh my God_ , I think. _What now?_


	37. FORENSICS TEAM MEETS PEETA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short! Sorry. I do not know anything about forensics, other than the little I've seen on TV cop shows. If anything seems implausible or just flat out wrong, please let me know.

"My jaw hursh . . . " Peeta grimaces.

"Stop talking," Katniss says.

"Wha gon do?" Peeta mumbles.

"They're going to take a few DNA samples . . . "

Peeta nods. Smart. He should have thought of that.

Katniss is tense, her right foot jiggling against the floor. Plutarch gazes witheringly at her but bites his tongue. She's still in running clothes.

_God, she's beautiful._

The buzzer sounds. Katniss jumps. "Who is it?" she says into the speaker.

"Thresh and -- guests."

Katniss buzzes them in.

A muscular policeman, medium height, enters the room, followed by the two technicians from the forensics lab. One is a very pretty woman with glowing, red hair. Peeta swallows.

"That the guy?" the woman says. Without waiting for an answer, she heads straight for Peeta.

"Think you can get something, Annie?" Katniss asks the woman.

Annie grins. "Sure. An injury like that, there's bound to be transfer."

"Good," Katniss says.

"Now, Mr. -- " the male technician says.

"Mellark," Plutarch says.

"Have a seat. And try and keep still."

"Yeah. And close your eyes. You keep turning your head every time Katniss walks across the room," Annie cackles.

Katniss's mouth drops open. "Seriously?" she says.

"Look, go away for a bit, okay?" Annie says. She turns to Peeta. "I know what I'm doing, Mr. Mellark." She snaps on her gloves. Peeta swallows.

The male technician comes forward and gets a firm grip of Peeta's head.

*     *     *     *

An hour later, Annie pokes her head into Katniss's bedroom. "All done," she smirks.

"Get anything?" Katniss says, jumping to her feet.

"He did great," Annie says, turning to head back to the living room.

"But did you get anything?" Katniss says, following close on her heels.

"We'll see," Annie says, shrugging.

"I'd like to get the bastard," Katniss mutters.

"Who?" Annie says.

"You know who," Katniss says.

"We'll get back to you," Annie says.

As soon as they enter the living room, Peeta's eyes land on Katniss. "He's all yours now," Annie says to Katniss, with a poorly concealed smirk.

Thresh and Plutarch are huddled in a corner, talking. Katniss heads for them.

Plutarch sees her. "Katniss," he says, interrupting Thresh. Before he can say anything else, Annie calls out from across the room, "We're done here."

Plutarch leaves Thresh and Katniss and walks over to Annie and her colleague. "I'll walk you out," he says. Katniss lets her gaze wander over to Peeta. His jaw looks worse than it did earlier. "Wanna lie down?" she asks him. Peeta looks at her and answers, "Ishe."

*     *     *     *

Plutarch jams a spoon into the tub of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey and licks it. Katniss doesn't miss the way Peeta looks longingly at it. He's holding a plastic bag of ice against his face and looks absolutely miserable. She makes up her mind quickly.

She goes to the kitchen, grabs a spoon from a drawer, walks back to the living room, and grabs the tub from Plutarch, who says, "Hey!" Katniss ignores him.

She sits down next to Peeta on the couch and holds the quart of ice cream towards him. He looks gratefully at her but when he reaches for it, he forgets to hold the ice to his jaw and it falls to his lap. Katniss looks at Peeta's lap, shakes her head, picks up the ice pack with two fingers, and shoves it at Peeta. He mumbles something that sounds like "Thanks." Then, she takes the ice cream from him, digs in with the spoon, and holds the spoon up to his mouth. "Lick," she says. Peeta's eyes widen, just a fraction. His pupils dilate. _Oh boy, Katniss._ Plutarch clears his throat. _  
_

*     *     *     *

Katniss leans her head back on the couch and closes her eyes. Peeta's finally gone. His Uber came for him less than 10 minutes ago. She can't say she's sorry, either. Every nerve in her body is crying out for relief.

"Well?" Plutarch says.

Oh God. She'd forgotten she wasn't quite entirely alone. Why is her mentor still here?

"Katniss -- " Plutarch says, more softly.

"What?" she says, not turning her head.

There's a long pause. "Never mind," Plutarch finally says.

They both listen as the TV blares noise.


	38. PLUTARCH WARNS KATNISS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plutarch assumes Peeta will be coming over later that evening. And he turns out to be right!
> 
> So, I'm upping the sexual tension without upping the investigation tension. I just don't seem to be able to do both in the same chapter!
> 
> I hope you like the way Katniss is progressing. I thought her character really needed development, so I've been adding to this chapter bit by bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Peeta was socked in the jaw and he must look beat up when he shows up at Katniss's. But I chose to gloss over that fact. Because I'm too interested exploring the UST! But I will try inserting a few more details here and there about Peeta's bruised face (Also, why is he suddenly able to talk without difficulty? Believe me, I'm still sorting this chapter out)

Plutarch finally goes back to the precinct the next day.

"I'm sleeping here tonight," he tells her, just as she's getting ready to close the apartment door.

She freezes. "What?"

"You don't think I'll leave you two here alone -- "

"I don't know what you're talking about," Katniss says.

"Really? Don't you?" Plutarch says.

Katniss stays silent.

"Look," Plutarch says. "I know the guy has the hots for you."

"Don't talk like that," Katniss says.

"You're playing with fire."

"We're not. I'm not."

"You're going to tell me that if Mellark shows up here and invites you out for a drink, you're not going to look into those big blue eyes and -- "

"Shut up."

"Listen, Katniss. I am serious. I'm on your side. I just want to remind you."

"I'm not going to sleep with him."

_As if! She's not like those women Peeta has eating out of his hand._

"Famous last words."

"And you're not my father. And besides I'm not going to sleep with him. Ever."

Plutarch looks deep into her eyes. "Fine," he says. "I trust you."

She bangs the door closed.

Katniss spends the rest of the day watching the news. There are still reporters stationed in front of the precinct. She's glad she was able to offer Plutarch a little bit of peace.

There's nothing about Peeta. His lawyer must be that good. For which Katniss can't help heaving a sigh of relief.

When her bell buzzes, she rushes to it, bored out of her skull. She expects Plutarch and is stunned to hear Peeta: "It's me," he says curtly.

She buzzes him in, a little nervously. In no time at all, Peeta raps at the door. She opens it and blurts out, "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Plutarch, who else?"

"Listen, not funny. He'll be here any minute and I don't want him seeing you here."

"Why not?"

_God! Does she have to spell it out for him?_

Peeta brushes past her. "I can handle Plutarch," he says. "I figure I'll be safest here, anyway."

Katniss stares at him, one hand on the doorknob. "Really?" she says. "Really?"

Peeta lifts one hand and for the first time she notices the paper bag. "I brought dinner for three," he says. "I know I have to get on his good side." Then he walks to the kitchen, familiar as can be.

*     *     *     *

Katniss pops a big, black cherry into her mouth. Her lips are swollen -- eating cherries always makes them swell up that way. But she can't help herself. Peeta brought over some of the biggest, blackest, sweetest cherries Katniss has ever tasted. And while waiting for Plutarch, he urged her to try some. And . . .

Katniss wasn't expecting company (not that Peeta really _is_ company, he's just a pest -- a good-looking pest but still a pest). Fuck, she looks rough: she's wearing a ratty pair of jeans, and her hair's pulled back in a messy braid. But why should she care what she looks like? It's just Peeta.

The doorbell buzzes and Katniss is startled to realize that the bowl of cherries on the coffee table is empty. It's dark outside, too.

_When did that happen?_

Plutarch walks into the apartment. He looks harassed, tired, ready to drop. Suddenly, he stops, gives Katniss a look, then gives Peeta a look.

"You two hooking up?" he says.

"What?" Katniss gasps.

Plutarch runs his eyes over her again. "Don't pretend, Katniss. I can see his marks all over you."

Instinctively, Katniss crosses her arms over her chest. "Cut it out, Plutarch," she says.

"The swollen lips, the messy braid -- I've seen it all before, don't forget," Plutarch says.

"You're out of control, Plutarch," Katniss says. She turns away. Her eyes sting. Before either Plutarch or Peeta can see her cry, she stalks to her bedroom and slams the door. Even through the closed door, she can hear their voices: first Plutarch's, and then Peeta's. She can't stand this. She presses her fists into her eyes.

She thinks she hears Peeta say, "Don't you see what you're doing to her?"

"Butt out," Plutarch says. "You're nothing but a walking penis."

A few minutes later, she hears footsteps come down the hall. There's a soft knock at the door. Then she hears Plutarch's voice: "Katniss? It's Plutarch. I'm sorry."

Katniss says, through the door: "I'm okay, Plutarch. Don't worry about it." After a moment's hesitation, she opens the door. Plutarch stands there, looking completely sad. Then, unexpectedly, he pulls her in for a hug. "I only want to protect you," he says as he pats her back.

Katniss pulls away. "I don't need protecting," she says. She leads the way to the living room.

"Katniss," Plutarch says. "Katniss!"

She turns.

"If you really want to work this case with him," Plutarch says. "I won't stop you."

Katniss crosses her arms and tosses back her hair. "Let's just see where this goes." She continues to the living room.

Peeta's right eyebrow quirks up when he sees her. "You okay?" he asks.

Plutarch, from right behind her, says firmly, "She's okay."

Katniss turns and glares at her mentor. "I believe he asked _me_ not you." She turns back to Peeta. "But yes, to answer your question, I'm okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things I have always enjoyed about The Hunger Games is how Suzanne Collins has shown Katniss's unabashed appetite, especially for food like lamb stew and cheese buns! They are central: food is life. And This Peeta knows that very well.


	39. THE CALL NO ONE WANTS TO GET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss gets a call. And it's a hard one.

Only minutes later, Katniss's phone vibrates. She pulls it out of her jeans, stares at the Caller ID, swallows.

"Who is it?" Plutarch asks.

Katniss answers the phone.

"One summer," Alison Gaynor's mother says, "we went on a picnic. It was her 12th birthday. Her two best friends came, and a cousin. We went to Half Moon Bay and took the girls to a pony farm."

"Mrs. Gaynor -- " Katniss starts.

"When she was 10," Mrs. Gaynor says, "she loved swimming more than anything in the world. We were on another beach, and we saw she'd gone too far out. Her dad dived into the ocean. He swam hard. I watched from the sand. I kept screaming her name: Alison, Alison, Alison. It seemed forever until her dad reached her. When they both came back to the sand, he lugging her and both of them half-dead, I knew all of us would never be the same."

"Let me speak to her." Plutarch tries to take the phone from Katniss's hand. Katniss pulls sharply away from him. She shakes her head and mouths, "Not yet."

"When she was 14, she had a crush on our next-door neighbor's son, Bobby. Are you a mother, detective?"

There's a long pause. Katniss measures her words slowly. "I'm not a mother, but I've lost people that I've loved. I have scars."

Peeta's standing next to her, an arm around her shoulders. Katniss starts to cry quietly. Her voice trembles as she tells Mrs. Gaynor, "We don't have confirmation yet."

"I know, okay?" Mrs. Gaynor screams. "I know!" Then she disconnects.

Katniss shrugs off Peeta's arm. "How old was she? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?" She closes her eyes. She can see Alison in those pictures the Gaynors shared with her. She's in a dress, twirling for the camera. She loves her life.

Katniss opens her eyes. And looks straight into Peeta's. "Haven't you done enough?" she hisses, turning away from him. A few moments later, she hears the door to her apartment open and shut.

"Shit, Katniss," Plutarch says.

Katniss lifts her chin. "I'll be fine," she says.

Plutarch just sighs.


	40. FIREWORKS BETWEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are things going too fast? Do I need to apply the brakes? (Read to the end!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place a month later. Peeta makes a startling discovery. Read all the way to the end!

"Peeta . . . " Katniss says. She's been waiting for him to come in at the Ritz Carlton.

Peeta glances coldly at her. "How can I help you, detective?"

"I'd like to ask you -- a few questions . . . "

"I'm not sure how helpful I can be," Peeta answers. "I've already told Plutarch everything."

"Well, I just wanted to -- to -- apologize. Really."

"Listen," Peeta says. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, mussing it. That's part of what makes him so hard for Katniss to resist. That he doesn't hide his emotions. Not when it comes to her, anyway. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Somehow," Katniss says, coming closer and smiling, "I knew you'd say that."

Peeta looks at her, startled. "Is this some sort of game? I'm just not in the mood, Katniss." He looks away. It's been a few weeks. Weeks in which he worried constantly about her. Tried to forget about her. But you might as well tell a thirsty man to stop thinking about water.

 _You're such a fool_ , Peeta.

He looks into her silver eyes.

_Damn it, you see a girl's eyes and you forget everything. Everything._

She doesn't say anything. The silence goes on and on and on.

"Listen to me, please. There's Ocean. I've promised to keep her safe. I wonder if you can help me with that."

He faces her, amazed. "You don't have a plan, do you? I must be your last card. Listen, I'm not going to take her in, have her live with me. Did she put you up to this?"

"No!" Katniss says, vehemently. "Of course not. I just want you to help me keep her safe, all right? Please? I know you feel something for her."

"I don't," Peeta says, his voice growing cold again. "I keep telling you. It was strictly business with those girls."

"Oh sure. You can pretend to be numb, but you're not fooling me."

"Well fuck you, detective," Peeta says. "I'm afraid I can't help you. Consult your damned mentor. Kiss up to -- whoever. Now get out of my hotel or I'm going to have to call security."

Katniss still stands there, as if frozen in shock. "I'm sorry I sound rude," Peeta finally says. "But I really don't think I want to get involved with this investigation." He pats around in his coat pockets till he finds a pack of cigarettes. He lights a fresh cig and blows smoke angrily into the air between them. "I've applied for a transfer," he tells Katniss. "Oh?" she says, "To where?" "Half Moon Bay, It's farther down the coast, you won't be able to bother me there."

Katniss turns, as if she's about to step away. "I am twenty-six," she says. She steps closer, watching him carefully. She rests both hands on his shoulders. He holds his breath. She stands on tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Peeta closes his eyes. "This job is everything to me," she says.

Peeta's arms, in spite of himself, slip around her waist. The cigarette drops from his fingers. She lets him pull her close. He lowers his head. Her hair is braided, and for the first time, he sees it: a thin white scar, from her nape down the back of her collar. He lifts a hand and traces the scar with his finger. Her warm skin seems to prickle under his hand.

"How did you get this?" he whispers.

Katniss begins to cry quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the part about the cigarette late last night, and this morning I added a little bit more. And then I thought: Damn, he has a cigarette! What's he going to do with the cigarette? So I decided to just have him drop it.
> 
> Now I'm thinking: what if he sets his hotel on fire?
> 
> lol


	41. THE CONVERSATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short again! Apologies. 
> 
> Lots of big moments, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hotel does *not* burn down, of course. (Stop thinking of that cigarette for a moment!)
> 
> Peeta's trying to be more direct and upfront with Katniss.

Peeta touches her braid. "Tell me," he whispers.

Katniss shakes her head. She moves to stop his hand, still stroking that thin scar. "Don't," she says.

"What is it?" he says. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head again. "It was a long, long time ago."

"You can't ever leave the past behind, Katniss," he says, gently. "But you need someone to help you -- "

That's when she straightens and pushes away from him. "I'm fine," she says. "Work helps."

"Is that really enough?" Peeta says. "Working it off?"

Katniss shrugs. "Yeah, it helps."

"So that's how you see yourself," Peeta muses. "As one of those crusaders for a righteous cause . . . "

Katniss gestures in frustration. "The criminals, the ones who treat young women as meat, they'll have to deal with _me_."

"And who's going to look out for _you_ while you're making the world safe for others?"

"I don't know," Katniss says. "I guess I'll have to look out for myself."

"I can help you," Peeta says.

"Ah, you," Katniss shakes her head. "You are -- bait."

"What do you mean by that?" Peeta says.

"I mean, you're too good to be true. Look at you, coming to the rescue of damsels in distress . . . I'm not going to fall for it, Peeta. You're dangerous."

"I'm dangerous . . . " Peeta repeats, his face going thoughtful, introspective.

"But that's why you're so useful," Katniss says. She pauses and looks straight into his eyes. "Will you let yourself be that? Bait?"

"You're playing a dangerous game with me," Peeta says.

"I'll risk it," Katniss says.

"I'm just some kind of mutt to you, is that it?"

"Peeta," Katniss says, "I -- "

"Forget it," Peeta says brusquely. "I know what the answer is."

He looks at her as he says it. He can't help himself. He _has_ to look at her. Between them there's a thread that pulls and gets tighter and tighter. He wants to touch her. Again.

His right arm coils around her waist to draw her closer. "I'll do what you want," he says. "I'm not going to fight them anymore."

"Fight -- them?" Katniss asks.

"My feelings for you," Peeta sighs, wrapping his arms around her again. She lets him draw her close, realizing that she's quite content to rest in his embrace.

Moments later, they're walking quickly through the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. Peeta's staff gawk. "Sir -- ?" one of them asks.

"Not now," Peeta says, putting up a hand.

Plutarch looks up from his desk as the pair enter his office. "Well, well, what do we have here," he says softly. He gets up and goes to the other side of his desk. There's a disorganized clutter of wooden chairs in front of it. He pulls one out for Katniss and, ignoring Peeta's dismissive gesture, pulls out another one for Peeta. "Sit!" he says cheerfully. "It's very good to see you again, Mr. Mellark." He waits until Peeta is settled in his seat then says, barely able to keep a note of glee from his voice, "So you agree to help us in the case of Eva de Lancey and Alison Gaynor. Correct?"

"The truth is," Peeta says, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands folded easily in his lap, "I'm only doing this for _her_."

Plutarch's face breaks out into a wide grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Peeta doesn't mind Katniss referring to him as bait!
> 
> So, will he do it? SHOULD he do it? Let himself be used by Katniss?


	42. THE LINE-UP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is not too short! I'm between moves again. Will add more this afternoon.

The hardest thing about humanity is that it's essentially inhuman, Katniss thinks.

They assemble five men for the line-up, one of whom is, of course, Peeta. The other is Cato. The third is Gale. The remaining two are people who've had appointments with Ocean before. Katniss doesn't know them.

Peeta's the only one with a lawyer.

One, the bald one, has the word Kurtz tattooed on his bicep.

Plutarch orders them to stand beneath the glaring lights and look straight at the glass. Peeta appears diffident. Almost, uncaring. But Katniss can see a pulse beneath his jaw, twitching. He's never been in a line-up before. He probably never thought he'd have to be in one, never in his whole life. He comes in tense. Katniss looks at him. "Hey," she says. "It's going to be all right. It's going to be over, just like that."

He looks at her. "I may argue with you after," he says.

"You can do it," she whispers. She gives his hand a quick squeeze.

He turns his head quickly. Katniss looks to see where Peeta was looking and sees that Ocean's come in. She's dressed in a short summer dress and white sneakers. She looks about 19. Her porcelain face is free of make-up. There's tension in her face, too.

Ocean goes up to Katniss. "All you have to do," Katniss tells Ocean, patting her reassuringly on the arm, "is identify the man you saw talking to Alison, the week before she disappeared, okay? I'll be here with you the whole time."

Ocean nods. "Is _he_ part of the line-up?" she asks.

"Is _who_ part of the line-up?" Katniss asks, even though she knows Ocean's referring to Peeta.

"Your boyfriend," Ocean says.

"No," Katniss lies. She doesn't want Ocean strategizing. It was a mistake to talk to Peeta out here, where Ocean could see them.

"Now," she says, leading Ocean up to the one-way mirror. "Let's get you ready."

The lights switch on in the room. Five men stand against a wall. Cato shifts from foot to foot. He avoids looking at Peeta, who happens to stand right next to him. Gale's eyes are dark and inscrutable. He knows Cato but he doesn't say a word to him, doesn't even turn his head in his direction. One of the other two remaining suspects is an Uber driver who told Thresh he'd taken Alison to Peeta's place. He's a swarthy fellow with a full beard. Katniss can't shake the feeling she's seen him before: in a bar? In her building? In Peeta's hotel?

"Okay, let's get this show on the road!" Plutarch says. He lowers his head to speak into a mike. "Suspect # 1, come forward."

*     *     *     *     *

Of course, things never turn out the way Katniss hopes. "Take your time," she tells Ocean, as the other woman's eyes flit restlessly over the men. Of course her eyes linger a bit too long on Peeta. For one horrible moment Katniss thinks Ocean is going to finger him. But she doesn't. She looks at Katniss and shakes her head. Plutarch leans into the mike again and tells the men they're free to go. The room grows dark.

"I'm sorry," Ocean tells Katniss.

Katniss thinks, _I'm sorry, too._

Her eyes start to close, as if she's seeing an image in her mind. Then they snap open. "Wait," she tells Katniss. "It's him." She points.


	43. OCEAN PULLS IT TOGETHER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, guess who Ocean finally identified?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this too much? Are they getting cheesy?

"Wait," Katniss says, grabbing Ocean by the arm. "Are you sure? Are you very, very sure?"

"Yes," Ocean swallows. "I'm sure." Her eyes are going a little haywire. She's holding on to Katniss for dear life.

Katniss turns. "Peeta -- " she says.

"I'm on it," he says, already lunging after Gale.

Of course, everything's a little more complicated than that. Gale was so sure he'd gotten off scot-free, he was laughing with a few others, including Cato, instead of walking straight out (as he should have done, Katniss thinks)

Even at that moment, even after Peeta had him, Katniss remembers her gut sinking. This awful, twisting moment. This nightmare feeling. Like, _what have I done?_

Gale hits back at Peeta. He's a strong man. But what Katniss never expected is: Peeta's stronger. Really, he has Gale in something of a death grip. And he keeps him there, secured, in a wrestler's grip, with Gale's face under his arm. Gale flails and roars, but Plutarch has him surrounded now, and pretty soon there are handcuffs on him, and Peeta lets go.

After, Katniss will never forget it, everything. The way everything seemed to happen in slo-mo. Right after the handcuffs were snapped on Gale, Cato stepped back, holding up both hands, a horrified look on his face. And when Katniss saw that, she felt free. She WAS free. The good guys had won. For now, at least.

She wonders if she can count Peeta among them? Can she ever really trust him? Even now?

Say what you will, though. She owes him a lot. He saved her. Yes, that's a bitter pill for Katniss to swallow.

She walks up to him. He's wiping the sweat off his forehead. She notices sweat marks under his arms ( _So hot!_ ) He looks, for the first time since she's known him, tired.

"Hey," she says, and stops.

"Hey," he says.

"That was great," she says. "Thanks for helping."

"Well, I had to," he says, shrugging.

"You know," Katniss says, "we should have a drink sometime."

"Really? That's all you think I deserve? A drink?" He laughs when he sees Katniss scowl. "Forget about it. You don't owe me anything."

"I do, as a matter of fact," Katniss says.

"Well, okay. But I'm thinking it's got to be more than just a drink."

Katniss stares.

"You've got to let me take you out."

"What do you mean -- take me out? You mean, like, on a date?"

"Ah! Finally she catches my drift. Let's go."

"What, right now?"

"Well, first I'll have to go home and change my shirt." Peeta lifts his arm and Katniss sees the rip. She also sees -- umm -- a nipple?

_Oh God. A Peeta nipple sighting. That's really hot._

"Oh!" Katniss says. "I'm sorry!"

_Ugh. I can feel my cheeks heating up._

"Don't worry about it. I have about a gazillion of these," Peeta laughs. "But I think we both need a drink. Don't you?"

*     *     *     *

The next time they see each other, Peeta flings a letter in front of Katniss's face. They're in a pretty nondescript bar, somewhere on the edge of Chinatown. They've been meeting regularly for drinks here, at least once a week.

Katniss picks up the letter. It's got the Mayor of San Francisco's special gold crest on top.

"What is this?" she asks, puzzled.

Peeta shakes his head. "Read."

Katniss reads:

DEAR MR. MELLARK:

THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO WOULD LIKE TO DECLARE THE 24TH OF JUNE PEETA MELLARK DAY . . .

"What?" Katniss shrieks.

Just then, two young women sidle up to them. One has her cell phone up. "Excuse me," she says, looking at Peeta adoringly. "Aren't you the guy, the one on the news, the one who tackled that dirty cop . . . " Peeta gives an awkward smile and glances over at Katniss. If looks could kill, both girls would burst into flames. The second girl pipes up: "Would you mind taking our picture?" she says to Katniss, holding out her phone.

"I'm genius at selfies," Peeta says, taking the phone before Katniss can respond. Both girls squeal as Peeta holds up the phone and they squeeze in close. By the time the photo shoot is over and the girls simper away (throwing longing looks back at Peeta as they walk away), almost the entire restaurant is buzzing and Katniss has a headache as big as the Ritz.

Peeta and Katniss walk out of the restaurant.

"Why are you so quiet?" Peeta asks.

"I don't know," Katniss shrugs. "Maybe I'm just a little tired."

"Hey," Peeta says, tugging on her arm, making her stop walking. "Look at me."

She does. He lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her.

Katniss thinks, _Peeta Mellark is kissing me. Peeta is kissing me. What?_

"Stop," she says suddenly.

"Can you turn off your damn head, for just one minute?" Peeta says, and goes back to kissing her.

Katniss puts a hand on his chest. "What I was about to say was," she says, "my place or yours?"

Now it's Peeta's turn to still. "Wait. You want to do it, with _me_?" His voice is gruff, stained with equal parts desire and disbelief.

"Shut up," Katniss says, putting her mouth over his. "Look who can't turn off his damn head for just one minute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this will be just the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership for these two.
> 
> The DNA test of Cato (from the skin transfer on Peeta's jaw) eliminated him as a suspect but they still had him in the line-up (clever Plutarch strategy to confuse Ocean by presenting her with two possible Peetas?)
> 
> That said, Peeta is now a celebrity! Wonder how Katniss is going to handle it?


	44. THE GO-SLOW AGREEMENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, nothing happens!
> 
> Katniss explains about her scar. I hope it makes sense.
> 
> Peeta talks about his "issues."
> 
> So long as they're both talking, that's good, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am tweaking this chapter, sometimes taking out sentences and replacing. It's a struggle to get the tone right.
> 
> I took out a few lines about his move to Half Moon Bay. I didn't think Katniss earned the right to try and change Peeta's mind. So it just never comes up in the conversation.

You know, it comes out all wrong because it's not what Peeta wants to do right away -- who would have thought?

"You mean," Katniss says, "you don't want to -- hook up?"

"Of course not," Peeta says. "I mean, I do want you. So badly. But I don't want to skip the steps."

"Peeta."

"Let's go to your place and -- take it from there?"

Katniss looks at him for a long moment, then says, "Sure."

*.    *.    *.    *

They sit on the couch, and kiss for a bit. Then Peeta's hand wanders to the thin scar behind Katniss's neck.

"I can't stop wondering about this, you know," he whispers.

"It's -- an emblem," Katniss says. "That's how I think of it, anyway. Of me before."

"Yeah?" Peeta says. He lifts both hands to the back of her neck. "What happened?"

Katniss puts her hands over his. She gives her head a little shake, then takes a deep breath.

"There was this deer, Cato said. I guess, I didn't see it," Katniss speaks very slowly. "He swerved and he went off the road. He'd been drinking. Heavily. I told him I wanted to end our relationship. He went haywire and wouldn't let me out of the car. We were on a narrow road, and his car went up an embankment and flipped over. I awoke in the hospital, and they said I was lucky my neck wasn't broken. Then a doctor came in and said not to worry, I was going to be okay."

Peeta turns her around slowly. She lets him gather her braid and flip it to one side. He traces his finger down the scar. She doesn't cry this time.

"I have a titanium rod in my neck," she whispers.

"Oh," is all Peeta can say.

"The doctor said I would always have good posture."

Peeta presses his lips to the scar.

"Listen," Katniss says, not turning around. "I've had issues with men."

"I know," Peeta says. "We're not going to do anything now."

"Are you still moving to Half Moon Bay?" Katniss asks.

"I think so," Peeta says. "I want to get away from here for a while."

Katniss is quiet for a few moments. Then she says, "Now your turn. You've got issues too."

Peeta shrugs. "No, not really. Is liking sex an issue?"

"Come on!" Katniss says. "Your marriage?"

"Sex was always the best part of my marriage."

Katniss makes a frustrated sound and moves to get up. Peeta catches her hand. "No. I'm telling you the truth. Delly -- she didn't like much about me. But she liked that."

*.    *.    *.    *

Plutarch calls a meeting. Everyone's there, including Forensics.

"Let's make this case so air-tight he can't wriggle out of it," Plutarch tells the department. Behind him, on a screen, the picture of two young women: Eva DeLancey and Alison Gaynor. Katniss pales looking at them. So brave, those girls were. Taking care of themselves. Going out in the world.

There's a small trail that's emerged for Eva DeLancey after she left the bar. Some video cam picked up her car -- a blurred image, but a possible real clue, parked by the Santa Clara football stadium.

Now Katniss chews over this clue. Later, she tells Peeta about it. They're de facto partners now, even though she's never gotten around yet to using him as "bait."

She knows she'll do it eventually, however. She knows he's her power. And Peeta's a realist. He knows he can get into situations Katniss can't. And then he'll have to be her eyes, and see all.


	45. THE WORKING ARRANGEMENT

Now Katniss goes over to Peeta's place, when she needs to think. Which, as it turns out, is more and more often.

He gave her the keys, left instructions with the doormen: Katniss can come and go as she pleases.

Katniss's place is cluttered; Peeta's is pristine. His cleaning service comes in on Tuesdays. Katniss never shows up on Tuesdays.

She's so glad he's not into leather. Upholstery, that is. She's had to sometimes interview suspects or enter apartments on Nob Hill where the sofas and loveseats are leather, and her pants feel slippery when she sits down and once she almost slid off in the middle of an interrogation, which made her partner (who at the time was that asshole Gale) chuckle.

No, Peeta's sofa is the softest, richest, plushest, deepest velvet. It's almost as wide as her bed. And the love seats are a matching velvety red.

It turns out Peeta is a reader: he has books, earmarked, lying on the coffee table (she never goes into his bedroom, of course. Never): Epictetus, Elizabeth Bishop (the last time Katniss read Elizabeth Bishop was in college), something by Garry Kasparov called _**Deep Thinking**_.

She wonders what the apartment security think of her, this obviously-out-of-place woman, and her weird relationship with Peeta Mellark.

They're not "together" -- they're work colleagues. That's probably what he told everyone. Heck, they probably all think she's a lesbian. Because she isn't Mr. Mellark's type. Not from what they knew of him and the women he brought home.

Maybe she's some kind of assistant?

No, she's got a weapon. And sometimes she shows up in uniform. A cop's uniform.

To tell the truth, Katniss likes this arrangement. For one thing, Cato leaves her alone. Her building has no security (other than the front door code, and anyone can slip in when a tenant goes in or out, the tenants are pretty laid back and the super is practically AWOL), and Peeta's has got surveillance cameras whirring from the sidewalk. She never knew such apartments existed.

Plutarch likes it, too. He worries less when he knows Katniss is in Peeta's apartment. Of course, she never spends the night. Oh, wait, she has. But only three or four times. In the other bedroom. Not Peeta's. Of course not.

And he has a super-big flat-screen TV that's hung from the wall, like a painting. Not that Katniss cares about things like that.

He has no pictures of himself, or of any of his exes, anywhere. She puzzles over that, but then thinks he might have taken the pictures down after they formalized their arrangement, a sign of prudence that she likes.

Peeta's cool about everything. He goes to work, she lets herself in. He comes home around 7, sometimes an hour or so later (if he has shmoozing to do). She tries to slip out after he gets home, even though he tells her to relax, he'll order dinner for them.

He's so surprising, Peeta is. But no, absolutely off limits. Taboo.

She does sometimes catch him just before he leaves for work. Dressed up in a tapered suit, grey or navy, the man looks absolutely gorgeous. He doesn't look much worse after he gets back.

Katniss leaves.

There are times, usually late at night, and usually when she's poring over a case file, when Katniss can't help wondering, Is this enough? Times when she wonders, if just for a moment, what it would feel like to _be_ Peeta Mellark? And then she immediately brushes those thoughts aside, because the space inside her head is the only space she can resolutely call her own, and if she starts filling it up with thoughts of Peeta Mellark, she'll feel as if she's given it away.

*     *     *     *

"So," Peeta asks. "What's the latest on Gale?" It's Sunday. Katniss came over because -- well, because Peeta invited her? Because she had nowhere else to be and that was making her sad? He made them espressos and is bringing the tray to the living room right now. She feels guity about making him "serve" her, so she jumps up and tries to take the tray from his hands.

"Stop it," he says. "Sit."

He sets the tray down on the coffee table. She sits. He sits next to her. But first he puts a hand on the back of her neck, very gently touches her scar. It's a "thing" with him now. His hand only stays a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and all my other work will now be restricted to registered users of AO3. 
> 
> Mockingjayflyingfree's The Miner's Wife got plagiarized, big time, on wattpad.


	46. SUNDAY AT PEETA'S

Right after the accident, Plutarch suggested Katniss see a therapist. He was always there for her, but he couldn't handle her "I hate people" attitude. Her mother -- her mother was practically AWOL. There had only been one man in her mother's life, and he had been perfect. That is, until he died.

Katniss's therapist, Dr. Aurelius, made her write down lists of goals. Things like "Get out of the house at least once a day" or "Practice tolerance."

She was mad. Furious, really.

Why did this have to happen to her? Why was she the one who had to make lists? Why was she the one whose life was nearly destroyed?

She came back to work, that long, ugly scar at the back of her neck, and she couldn't even cover it up because they'd shaved her head completely, and she refused to wear a wig. The fuzz on the top of her head was downy as a new-born chick's. She saw that Gale, her partner, liked to touch it. She stopped understanding why after a while.

She started smoking for a bit, then quit. As a protest, she ditched all her books (Yes, she used to be a reader) and acquired a television.

There was a time she looked at her gun with particular affection, and said things like "Men are stupid" (never, of course, including her father or Plutarch in this statement).

And look at her now, with Peeta. What happened to all the outrage she used to be able to muster when she thought of him?

Sunday he invited her over for brunch. He answered the door in soft grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. His hair was rumpled. That was the look Katniss liked best of all on him, but she didn't say so. His T-shirt said: I AM SINGLE, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE. Katniss knew he hadn't put it on for her. The Old Katniss would have been peeved beyond imagining. But now, surprising herself, she bursts out laughing. After a moment, a slow grin comes on Peeta's face. He puts a hand up to scrub the back of his neck, and his T-shirt rides up and Katniss can see his Happy Trail.

_Well hello there, beautiful. It's been a while._

"That T-shirt is so you," she says, pushing her way past him.

He doesn't say anything, but he looks pleased, as if she's paid him a compliment, the biggest.

"Thank you for not blowing up at me," Peeta says, following behind as she heads for the living room.

"Oh, so you wore that deliberately? To provoke me? I was giving you the benefit of the doubt," Katniss says.

"You're much nicer to me these days," Peeta says, "That's good."

"Maybe it's because I don't take myself so seriously anymore," Katniss says, quietly.

Peeta says, "I made espresso."

While she waits in the living room, Katniss glances around. There's a reason she tries not to venture farther into Peeta's apartment than this. She wonders if she's cramping his style, if he'd like to date and bring a woman home for the night (He wouldn't, obviously, invite Katniss over for brunch if he'd had a woman sleep over. Would he? Would he?). She doesn't like to imagine Peeta's bed with him and another woman in it. She'd much rather --

She turns her head, her instincts alive to movement, even when it's coming from behind her. Peeta's been so quiet with the tray of espresso cups that he's almost to the couch. She jumps up and tries to take the tray from his hands, but he won't let her.

"Sit," he says.

She sits. He puts the tray down on the coffee table, and then there's the briefest touch of his hand on the back of her neck.

"This is so nice," Katniss says. "Thank you."

"You haven't had my cheese buns yet," Peeta says.

She slips off her holster and places it on the floor (because she is never, ever without her piece. Ever). She doesn't miss the way Peeta glances at it.


	47. DEEP TALK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've gradually been adding to this. Trying to be careful with the tone. I'm mostly in Peeta's corner, but Katniss is so skittish. Hence, the reason he's proceeding soooo carefully.

"So," Peeta says, sliding back on the couch, looking very relaxed (despite the glance Katniss saw him throw at her piece, on the floor by her feet). "Spill. What's the latest on the case? I assume you wouldn't be here unless there was something . . . "

Katniss looks at him, surprised. "I've been keeping you updated, haven't I?"

Peeta flushes. He sits up a little straighter. "But it's been three days . . . "

"Not that much happens in three days," Katniss says.

"Okay," Peeta says. "Can we do this over? I meant: What's the latest with you?"

"With me?" Katniss says. "There's nothing new with me. There never is."

"Oh," Peeta just shrugs. "That's good. I guess." He looks down at his espresso and takes a sip.

"What about you?" Katniss asks. "What's new with you?"

"With me?" Peeta says. "You want to know what's new with _me_?"

"Yes. Otherwise, let's both just sit here and drink our espresso in silence."

Neither of them speak for a couple of moments. Then, Katniss says. "Oh, I have something."

Peeta looks up expectantly.

"I have proof that Plutarch and Glimmer are a thing."

Peeta's jaw drops. "You mean," he says, "Plutarch just came out and admitted it? You've been teasing him about her for months."

"Of course he didn't come right out and admit it. It's not allowed, you know, fraternizing with a subordinate. But I know because -- well, his phone buzzed once when we were having lunch, and he checked the screen but wouldn't say who. So then, a few minutes later, it buzzed again, and when he checked the screen, I looked really quick, and I saw her name before he swiped it blank."

"Good detective work," Peeta says, with a big smile. Then he adds, his smile slipping just for a moment, "And good for them."

When Katniss doesn't respond, Peeta says, hesitantly, "Can I ask you something?"

Katniss starts chewing her right thumbnail. "Sure," she says, without looking at Peeta. "What?"

"Well, it's a little bit personal -- "

"Spit it out," Katniss says, impassively.

"Why did you become a cop?"

When Katniss just stares, Peeta continues, in a rush. "I mean, as opposed to becoming a teacher. Or . . . a politician. Or . . . something."

"Haven't you asked me that already?" Katniss says.

"No," Peeta says. "I don't think so."

"But you know I'm committed. I believe there are people out there who need help."

"I know that," Peeta says. "But why a cop specifically?"

Katniss looks away and swallows. "My father was a cop."

"Was?" Peeta says.

"He died."

The silence is heavy. Peeta, thankfully, doesn't force the subject. Instead he asks, softly, "And -- Cato?"

"Wow. Are you just determined to uncover all the deep stuff?"

Peeta shrugs and gives a self-deprecating smile.

"You're not going to blackmail me, are you?" Katniss says. "He was my instructor at the police training academy."

"Huh," Peeta says. "I believe that's against the rules."

Katniss stares at him for a minute. And then bursts out laughing. "Fuck, report me. See if I care," she says.

"I would never tell on you, Katniss," Peeta says in a low voice.

"Why not?" Katniss says, still defiant. "You don't owe me anything."

"Well, let's just say -- " Peeta says, reaching for her.

"You're -- " Katniss says, her hand resting for a moment on Peeta's chest. But then her hand slips, under his shirt.

_He's so warm!_

She runs her hand along his belly, just beneath his navel, and is gratified by hearing Peeta's sharp intake of breath. She gives his pants a tug. She wonders if he's going to put a hand over hers, to still her. He doesn't.

She looks at him, bare.

"You always entertain visitors without your underwear?" she smirks.

His hands snake to cup behind her head. "No," he breathes.

"You sure?" Katniss asks. He feels warm and velvety and hard and perfect. He bites his lip and shakes his head. She strokes him slowly. "Liar," she says.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff-y, sorry.


	48. GIVING IN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut!
> 
> Sorry, so short!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of people don't think these two should be together but -- ah, well. I enjoy a challenge.
> 
> And I forgot the prophylactics the first draft. It's been added in.

Katniss climbs into Peeta's lap and straddles his hips. He falls back easily on the couch, his eyes wide, watching her every move.

His cheeks, his chest are flushed, his lips swollen with her bites and kisses.

_He's so beautiful._

"You want me," she says, before going in for a deep kiss.

"I love you," he says.

"I'm sorry, what?" Katniss says.

Their eyes lock. There is a long moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," Peeta says. "That was the wrong thing to say."

Katniss nods, then whispers, "Take off your shirt."

Peeta smiles. "Or you'll shoot?" he says.

"Can we go to the bedroom?" she asks. "I feel too exposed out here."

He nods but doesn't get up. His hands snake to the back of her neck. She's still in a T-shirt, but he's unclasped her bra, and now he pushes her shirt up and looks at her. She's a little embarrassed about the smallness of her breasts and starts to clamber off him, but he holds her in place.

"Let me look at you a minute," he says softly. His hands go to her breasts and her head falls back. His hot mouth finds one nipple, then the other. "You're perfect," he moans.

She's panting over him and suddenly she's all over the place again. In her mind. The years pinball, she's swaying and bumping over another blonde man. This is her life. It's always like this.

But yes, yes, yes. In the moment, yes --

"Are you clean?" she asks.

"Yes," he says quickly.

"Do you have -- "

"Yes," he says again, reaching for a box on the coffee table.

"Oh," Katniss says. "Thanks for being such a boy scout."

"Say my name," Peeta says.

Katniss looks down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded. She takes the condom from him and rips the package open with her teeth. She rises enough to slip it on him. Then Peeta's hands slide down to her hips, pinning her in place as he thrusts into her.

"Say my name," he says again.

She hovers over him in frustration. Her mouth moves.

*     *     *     *

After, Peeta coils her hair around his right hand, lifts it off her neck, kisses her _there_.

Katniss lowers her legs, carefully. She can't feel her toes. She looks underneath them at the sofa and grimaces.

"Is everything alright?" Peeta asks.

"We can't do this again," Katniss says.

Peeta looks down and shakes his head. He lifts his hips slightly and starts sliding his pants back up. Katniss stops him.

*     *     *     *

And then, after the second time, she says, "That was good," sliding down his slick chest.

"We can't do this again, you said," he says. Gasps, really.

"No, we can't," Katniss says.

His hand slides up to cup the back of her neck and she brings her still-hungry lips down on his.

"Can we think about that, at least," he sighed, once they'd come up for air.

He guides her head down to rest against his chest. Katniss sighs contentedly.

"What were you before?" she asks.

"Before -- ?"

"Before you became a hound," she says.

*     *     *     *

Plutarch sits at his desk, papers scattered over every available inch of surface. He's just gotten the report on Eva DeLancey's car. And the file on Gale was growing thicker by the day. But what use was everything? They hadn't found a motive. What use was a bunch of facts if they couldn't find a motive? He had to find something. Something that would stick.

There has to be _something_!

His office door cracks open. Plutarch looks up. A blonde pokes her head in. Plutarch smiles.


	49. TEAMWORK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I say Teamwork, you say -- yes, please!

Katniss and Peeta face each across his butcher block kitchen island. (Of course he'd have a kitchen island. As well as gleaming copper pans, hanging in a row, suspended from the ceiling, all within easy reach. Well, within easy reach for him. He's got a good foot on Katniss)

"So, like I told you," Katniss says. "My dad was a cop, and Plutarch became sort of like my foster dad after . . . you know. There's something about having a man around when you're a family of all girls. It took some of the pressure off me."

Peeta is listening carefully, his head lowered. His hands cup his tea mug. And -- God, Katniss can't stop looking at those hands. The wide baker's hands, with a dusting of fine, blonde hair on the back of his wrists. She doesn't even know how he got her to talk about her DAD, of all people. She stops, bites her lip.

Peeta glances up. "What's the matter?" his eyes seem to say.

You, you're the matter.

"Anyway," Katniss says, with a sheepish laugh. "We ought to start, you know, divvy-ing up the legwork for this case. I mean, I know you're not officially on it -- "

"Sure, let's divvy it up," Peeta says, sliding in smoothly, like it's nothing. Like of course he could help her do policework. ANYTIME.

Frankly, Katniss wishes they could do something OTHER than police work. No, not bed-kind of activities. She'd really like to take a simple walk, holding his hand, down on Ocean Beach or wherever. Maybe just Union Square, their shoulders brushing . . . How can those other women stand it? Not being close to him all the time? Some men have a smell. Peeta's is baked bread. HOLY SHIT, Katniss keep it together. You're a loner. You've always been a loner.

She notices him watching her, a flare of amusement in his eyes. OF COURSE HE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S THINKING.

"Okay. You want me to -- "

"Yeah, just do that and -- "

"Could you tell me how long I'd have to -- "

"Of course, if you're busy -- "

"What exactly are we talking about here -- "

"I mean -- " Katniss swallows, pushes away from the table. "I'll come by later."

What she means is: Much later, like: bedtime.

She starts moving towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, just got a few more witnesses to interview."

He frowns. "All by yourself?"

"Oh my God, Peeta," Katniss says, rolling her eyes. "Definitely by myself. You're such a distraction; if I had you around when I was interviewing witnesses, the women would be flirting, and the men would be -- well, they might be flirting too, come to think of it."

"Cut it out." Peeta slides off the kitchen stool. He walks up to her. There's a long silence. His hands move up her sides, to her neck. She leans against him. "What do you want, Katniss?"

She ponders that a moment, breathing in the smell of him. "Everything," she says.

*     *     *     *

At the station, she's on her way out, giddy: one more interview and then she'll hop on over to Peeta's --

"Katniss? A word." Plutarch's voice cuts across her thoughts.

Katniss stops and looks at her boss, an excuse forming in her mind.

"Let's grab a bite to eat. I'm starving," Plutarch says, already rising from his desk and reaching for his jacket.


	50. A FATHERLY WARNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about being able to continue this. Wasn't sure I could pick up the rhythm, that was what I always enjoyed about writing this particular Katniss and Peeta: their back-and-forth. Even Katniss's back-and-forth with Plutarch.

"So, what's your pleasure, Kat? Where'd you feel like eating tonight?" Plutarch asks as they walk out of the station together.

He's got to be kidding. When has Plutarch cared that much about her restaurant choices?

"Umm, anything'll do. I'm not really hungry, in fact. Still got some leads to follow up on."

Plutarch is silent for a while. Then he says, "You're not hungry? When is Katniss Everdeen ever NOT hungry? That's a new one."

Katniss feels her temper fraying. "How about: I lost my appetite when Eva DeLancey and Alison Gaynor got dead and my former partner Gail turned out to be a shit-eating scum-- "

"Touchy, touchy!" Plutarch says, a sardonic grin on his face. Suddenly, he grows serious. "Well, let me at least walk you a little closer to your place."

"What?" Katniss says. "Plutarch, I'm not a child!"

"Oh, here we are! The Cheesecake Factory! Don't mind a slice of cheesecake for dinner. Malteser cheesecake, double Irish cream liqueur . . . "

Katniss could cry with frustration. She'd rather have sweets ON Peeta, to tell the truth. She's been thinking of him all afternoon. Thinking of him in his apartment, them talking in the kitchen, then moving on to --

"Katniss. I don't want you going over there too much," Plutarch says.

_I knew it!_

"I don't know what you're talking about," Katniss says.

"Oh?" Plutarch says. Someone bumps into him from behind. "Hey! Watch it!"

It's a homeless man. One of those with missing teeth and probably missing brain cells. The smell of whiskey wafts from him, that and the smell of someone who hasn't had a shower in a very long time.

"Hey," the man slurs, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. "Lover's quarrel. I get it -- "

"Oh fuck off," Plutarch says.

Katniss is already walking away from Plutarch, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket. She hears Plutarch calling her back.

"No, Plu," she yells without turning around. "I'm done."

"Don't let him get too close, Katniss," Plutarch yells. "You don't know anything about him."

Suddenly, all the fight seems to drain out of her. When has Plutarch ever NOT been right? And she's known him a whole lot longer than she's known Peeta. But she can't let Plutarch see her doubt. She keeps walking, not slowing her pace. But she knows for sure she isn't going to see Peeta tonight.

Hours later, she's in her apartment, glumly watching the news, when she hears a ping. She picks up her phone. Peeta's texted her: _Hey, where are you? Are you safe?_


	51. OCEAN AND PEETA

Ocean has jittery eyes. She points her gun at Peeta's chest.

"Hey," Peeta says. "Come in. Want to have a drink?" His heart is beating madly.

She steps inside his apartment.

"Can I get you a drink?" Peeta asks.

She shakes her head. She and Peeta stare at each other. Finally, he says, "Fuck, Ocean. Can you at least put the gun away?"

"Where is she?" Ocean asks.

"Where is WHO?" Peeta says.

"You know who," Ocean says. "The detective."

"Oh," Peeta says. "She doesn't live here. I'm sorry. That's who you were wanting to see?"

"Tell me where she lives," Ocean says.

 _No way am I telling you_ , Peeta thinks.

"I don't know where she lives."

"Bullshit."

He pouts. "I don't do bullshit, Ocean. You know it. How'd you get in, anyway?"

Ocean shrugs. "Oh, easy. One of the tenants was going in and I slipped in after him. We were the only two in the elevator. I decided to complain about the super and I could see him relax. He must hate the super, too." Her laugh is more like a dry bark.

"What do you want with Katniss?" Peeta asks. "She rejected you, is that it?"

The hand holding the gun starts to tremble.

"I'm jealous. I didn't know you played on the other team."

"If I liked men," Ocean grits out, "would I be in the business?"

Peeta takes a step closer. She points at his chest again. "Stay where you are," Ocean says. "Or I swear to God I'll shoot."

Did this crazy chick kill Eva, and Alison? Why?

"Does she know we slept together?" Ocean asks.

"Of course she knows," Peeta says. "She got Effie's client list first thing."

"Go to the bedroom," Ocean says.

That's it, Peeta. You were foolish enough to use an escort service, you deserve this pain.


	52. OCEAN AND PEETA 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter. Well, who wouldn't enjoy a scene of Peeta tied to a bed. I mean, HONESTLY.

How, Peeta wonders, did he ever get taken in by this woman? He's on his bed, arms tied to the headboard (a real work of art, iron sculpted like the branches of an apple tree. Expensive, too: cost him almost $10,000). Thankfully, Ocean didn't tie his feet. But, damn, his arms feel like lead and . . .

He hears the shower running. What? He's never met a killer who takes a shower before . . .

Actually, he's never met a killer. Period.

He thought Gale was a killer. Obviously, Gale had killed people. But he wasn't a murderer. He and Katniss had made the mistake of thinking he was.

Thinking of Katniss now. Oh God, please don't answer my text, he thinks. Please don't. He'd sent it before Ocean showed up. Ocean took his phone, of course. She scrolled through the messages. When she'd landed on that last one, she had smirked.

"Well, well, well," she said. "Let's see if the detective's as horny as you are."

That had been hours ago. Katniss hadn't even texted back. He'd been a little surprised at that, but grateful all the same.

The shower stops. Peeta tenses a little. In a few moments, Ocean walks in, wearing his bathrobe. She's so tiny she seems almost to disappear inside it. She comes up to the bed and sits next to him, her face deep in thought.

"Are you safe?" she repeats, musing. "That a type of code? That your way of warning her?"

"Nope," he says. "I actually WAS hoping she'd come over. Before you showed up."

Think, Peeta! Think!

"She's obviously not coming over," Peeta says.

"That must sting," Ocean says, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Not really," Peeta says, keeping his voice even. "Detectives aren't my type. Too controlling."

Ha, ha, ha, Peeta. Is that the best you can do? She's tied you to your headboard and you say you don't like controlling women?

Ocean grabs him by his hair and pulls his head back. "Is that a fact? You're lucky I didn't tie up your feet, too."

"Thanks?" Peeta grits out.

She releases his head but doesn't move away from the bed.

"Look," Peeta tries again. "I know I'm not your type. And sorry for having sex with you -- umm, before. Which couldn't have been an enjoyable experience. For you, I mean. But you seem pretty tense . . . "

"Shut up," Ocean says. She gets up and walks out of his bedroom. The little flare of hope that Peeta had allowed himself when she'd sat -- almost intimately, he thought -- next to him on the bed sputters. So, all that moaning she did before, that was just an act? If he were an ordinary man, he might have accepted his humiliation by now. But he's not an ordinary man. He'd have made a great detective.

Minutes later, Ocean returns. She slips off the bathrobe, and joins Peeta on the bed. She looks him up and down, up and down, for what feels (to Peeta) like long minutes. Then she murmurs, "No, you're not the one." She turns her back and lies down, pressed close. Before long, her breaths even out. Peeta can't believe what just happened.

*     *     *

He says her name twice, three times. The fourth time, she stirs.

"I need to pee," Peeta says. "Untie me."

Of all the lines he's ever spoken to a woman, those have got to be the absolute worst. But his bladder is killing him. And his arms feel dead. Numb.

Fuck, he thinks. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She stares for a long moment into the darkness, as if she can't remember what she is doing there, in his bed. Groggily, she rises on one elbow. Slowly, understanding dawns. She flops back on the bed. "Pee on yourself," she says. "I don't care."

Is she high or something? She might have taken some of his stash. He has some lying around, but he's been so careful.

But, who is he kidding? This is San Francisco. She probably has a supply of her own.

He bites back the angry "Fuck you" that had been about to spill from his mouth. Instead, he says, lightly, "Really? Because my pee is really the worst. I mean, it stings worse than a jellyfish bite. And, umm, I'm gonna have to aim it in your direction if you don't mind -- "

He clearly has a death wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, dear readers, that Peeta is tied up on a bed AND IT'S NOT WITH KATNISS!
> 
> Also for his having no weapons left except where he aims his piss. SORRY!


	53. OCEAN AND PEETA 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I keep adding to this chapter instead of starting a new one. When I think of a good enough cliff-y, I'll stop adding.

Peeta's standing at the toilet with Ocean's gun pressed into the small of his back.

"Umm," he says. "A little privacy, please?"

"Shut up," she says. "Do it."

He stands there grimly. Waiting.

Suddenly, he hears his phone buzz. It's back in the bedroom. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. It skitters across the night table. He hears a long beep and holds his breath. Then he hears Katniss's voice, hoarse and thick: "Umm, Peeta? Sorry about tonight. I got to thinking. Maybe we shouldn't -- you know? Maybe not until this case is over. Sorry. Good night."

He wants to lunge for that damn phone. Maybe if he can distract Ocean.

Oh my God, here it comes. He almost closes his eyes with relief.

Ocean snickers.

"Done?" He nods, and she gives him a hard poke in the back.

"Get back on the bed."

What? She's not gonna tie him up again, is she?

"And don't even think about it, buddy. I'm a black belter in Jujitsu."

_Come on! Fuck!_

He sidles to the bed and decides to lie back gracefully. He can't believe the sight of him naked doesn't turn her on. Oh, right. Didn't she say, a couple hours ago, as she let her eyes roam his body: "Nope, not the one"?

_Then who IS the one?_

She's tied him up good and tight again. At least, she uses leather. Those won't leave marks. Only the highest quality ties for Peeta Mellark!

Ocean checks the time on his phone. "1:32 a.m. That's when she dumped you." She cackles.

OH GOD, Peeta thinks.

Maybe I'll let you text her back, Ocean says. What'll it be? Something like, Fuck you, frigid bitch!

"So who IS it?" Peeta says, suddenly, the words tumbling out of his mouth unbidden, as if he just has to know the answer. Who is he kidding? Of course he wants to know the answer.

"What are you talking about?" Ocean says, sounding grim.

"The one? Who's the one?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" Ocean says, waving the gun at him.

Geez, he hopes it doesn't go off _by accident_.

"Trade you for it," he says.

"Really," Ocean sneers. "And what would _you_ have to trade?" She looks scornfully down at his body as she says it.

Peeta gives his head a shake, as if trying to clear it. "That person. Whoever it is. The ONE. I presume you're trying to protect her. I can help."

Ocean's face crumples.

Oh, no, Peeta thinks. Is she --

"You can't help her," Ocean whispers. "She's dead."

"Hey," Peeta says softly.

Ocean starts to cry. The gun falls from her hand. She wraps her arms limply around herself.

"C'mere," Peeta says.

She looks at him through her tears then nods. Slowly, she climbs on the bed. Presses herself into his side, the way she did before.

When she stops crying, Peeta says, "Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head but keeps herself pressed into his side.

"Okay," Peeta says. "Okay." He doesn't know if he's saying it to her, or to himself.

After a while, Ocean gets up on one elbow and looks at him.

"You know, that detective. Katniss?"

"Yeah? The one who just dumped me?"

"She's really pretty."

Peeta looks into Ocean's face. "You liked her?"

Ocean sighs. "Yeah. Too bad she's not on my team. I kissed her. Her lips tasted nice."

"You -- what?" Peeta says. He doesn't realize that his arms have jerked and the restraints hurt like hell now.

"I kissed her. Once. Just to see what she tasted like, you know?" Ocean says.  
  
Peeta keeps staring at her.  
  
"She wasn't into it," Ocean says. "She pulled back so fast. Started giving me some bullshit. Oh well, at least I tried. You fuck her real good?"  
  
"Umm," Peeta says. Has Ocean got it really bad for Katniss, or what? "When did that happen? The kiss?"  
  
"A while back. In some Starbucks. She was trying to pass herself off as an actress. I knew right away. That girl can't act worth shit. But she sure is cute."  
  
They're silent for a few moments.  
  
"Her lips are so -- " Ocean says. "I dreamed about them, every night."  
  
Peeta's starting to feel uncomfortable. If only Ocean would quite talking about Katniss. It's making him --  
  
Ocean trills. "Whoa! Slow down, tiger!" she says, giving his dick a playful squeeze.

Peeta's eyes close and he bites down hard. "Please," he says. "Release me. And you can just go. I won't tell anybody. You can disappear. We can both pretend this never happened."

"Really?" Ocean says.

Peeta looks at her. "Really. If I see you again on the street, I'll just walk on by. Pretend I don't know you."

She's quiet.

Maybe she's thinking it over.

"Not," Peeta says, "that I wouldn't be HAPPY if you decided to drop by again."

"What about the video monitors?" Ocean says. "They're all over your building. You won't turn that over to the police? To your pretty detective friend?"

"I swear. It's not as if there haven't been -- umm -- others showing up on those monitors. And we're friends. Why can't friends have a night or two of -- you know, friendly action?"

They have a long stare-down. For a very, very brief moment, Peeta thinks: I've done it. Then she shakes her head. Rolls off the bed, picks the gun up from the floor.

Seriously? Lucky it hasn't gone off yet.

"I'm not leaving. Burned too many bridges. Sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two naked people. On a bed. Sorry they're not even the least bit attracted to each other. Aack!


	54. KATNISS TRYING TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I added a little more to the end of the chapter. Sorry for the cliff-y (again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss is getting closer but she's not close enough.
> 
> I added another Peeta interior monologue at the end of this chapter. Peeta's really the only way this mystery is ever going to get solved; it's too bad he has to do it while he's tied up on his bed! That's got to be a first for ANY Peeta!
> 
> I'm quite liking the Katniss/Peeta dynamic here so I might start another story with these two after this case is over. Peeta the Ritz Carlton playboy manager and Katniss the righteous police detective with a chip on her shoulder, both wandering the raw streets of the New San Francisco . . . I think I like the idea!

Katniss is on-line, trying to tie up some loose ends.

She's tried reaching Ocean Dinh several times, but all her calls go straight to voice mail.

She's determined to do something -- anything -- to distract her from calling Peeta again. She already left him a good enough message: _maybe we should cool off_ , something like that. The sick feeling in her gut after she hung up tells her that it might not have been the best idea.

She's been feeling defensive about him, ever since -- ever since the very first day she met him, to be honest.

Because Peeta is always so calm when she isn't. She likes bouncing ideas off him. He's well connected in the San Franciso world -- knows high-lifes as well as low-lifes. Even, escort services. Ha! Well, he's clean, at least. She doesn't have to worry that he's contagious or anything.

Katniss, whoa whoa whoa whoa! Without him to steady her, she's been climbing the walls. He hasn't bothered calling her back. She hopes he's not angry at her.

Wait, why is she thinking about Peeta? She should be worrying about Ocean Dinh, her last remaining escort witness, the only one who might have information which will lead her to the killer of Alison Gaynor.

The more she digs into Ocean Dinh's life, though, the sadder she gets.

Ocean Dinh had no friends.

Ocean Dinh had no siblings.

Ocean Dinh had no parents. Well, obviously she did have parents, but they were not part of her life. In any way, shape, or form.

Ocean Dinh was 24. Or she could be 34, hard to tell.

Ocean Dinh had picked Gale Hawthorne out of a line-up.

Ocean Dinh had slept with Peeta -- twice.

Wait, irrelevant. Peeta wasn't a suspect. Ocean wasn't a suspect.

Who else could be a suspect? Aside from Gale?

Something about blaming everything on Gale just doesn't sit right with Katniss.

First of all, Gale likes to think he's smart, but he isn't. Peeta's twice as smart as Gale.

Oh, wait. Wait wait wait.

*     *     *

Peeta's looking at Ocean. The woman's so tired, her head is flopping over and she starts snoring every couple of minutes. Then she startles herself awake, looks around blankly, points the gun uselessly at him, then falls asleep again.

She has no plan. Ocean has no plan. Why'd she come to Peeta's apartment? She was waiting for Katniss. What was she going to do to Katniss?

The fact that she has no plan makes her the perfect killer: he still doesn't know why she'd want to kill HIM. Or those other two women. Lucky for her, Gale Hawthorne was there, so conveniently there, so unstable and unlikeable, so easy to make the fall guy.

Peeta starts thinking about the two murdered women. Both of them connected in some way to HIMSELF. Ocean must have been following him around. But why? Because she was jealous? Was one of those women her lover? So he's slept with at least two women who didn't play on his team? Hysterical.

Or maybe Alison Gaynor or Eva DeLancey didn't WANT to be on Ocean's team. Maybe they rejected her, and she flew into a rage and killed them? Is that what she was planning to do to Katniss?

Peeta's head hurts. If he's not going to get out of these leather bindings soon, he's going to start gnawing them off. Hopefully, one of his staff at the Ritz Carlton -- or someone, at this point ANYONE -- will start wondering why he's not showing up for his appointments.

Whoever comes, it won't be Katniss. He thinks even Ocean's realized that by now.

Maybe because he's tired and stressed, he starts imagining packing Ocean off on a limo ride straight to SFO, DO NOT PASS GO, and giving her a tidy sum of cash so she can hie off to Shanghai or Belfast or Glasgow or wherever in the world she pleases.

He can't believe he's spent 12 hours already with this woman, and he's gotten nowhere. He's usually very good at: a) talking; or b) fucking. He's not on his A game, clearly. Not even his B game. Does he even have a game, at this point?

The next time Ocean startles awake, Peeta's ready with a question: "Hey, Ocean, if you could pick one city, just one city, anywhere in the world you'd like to live in, which would it be. Come on, indulge me. I'm clearly bored. Shanghai? Lisbon? No, wait, let me guess: Paris?"

This time, there's no mistaking Ocean's answer. She says, without any hesitation: "Jerusalem."

Peeta's phone buzzes. Katniss's voice: "I need to run a few theories by you. Sorry about last night. I'm coming over."

Peeta can almost taste the ashes in her mouth.

_Katniss, why did you have to --_

"Hmm," Ocean says. She picks up her gun and walks out of the room.

No, no, no, no, Peeta thinks. "Ocean?" he calls. "Ocean!"

She doesn't answer.


	55. SURPRISE, KATNISS!

Katniss hopes Peeta's home. All the way up in the elevator, she wonders what she'll say, how she'll explain that earlier message, about maybe not hooking up right now. Followed, several hours later, by a message saying she was coming over.

What is she? Shouldn't she be thinking more about boundaries, like how she shouldn't be using the access he granted her (because face it he just wants to have sex, like, all the time), the code to his apartment building, if she thinks they should be cooling off?

The way she rationalizes it is: she needs to solve this case. And right now, he's her best chance of solving it (Yeah, because he's cute).

She arrives at the door to his apartment. Should she knock? What time is it? She checks her watch: it's 11:21 a.m. He's probably at the Ritz Carlton. She'll knock first, give him a heads up, just in case he's home. So she gives the door a sharp rap with her knuckles. Waits a few seconds. Follows it up with another rap. When she still doesn't hear anything, she opens the door.

Huh. He's not home. That is, the living room looks -- empty. Right, he's not home. She walks a little further inside. She doesn't smell a thing, not a thing. He hasn't used his kitchen for -- how long? He doesn't usually have breakfast, but he does make coffee. And there's usually stuff in the sink, like a used glass or something.

She peers into the kitchen. It's absolutely pristine. Nothing, not even a plate, on the counter. Has he even been home? So what was that text he sent her last night -- "Are you safe?" What was that all about? Did he decide to -- ?

Suddenly, she hears a really loud thump coming from -- the bedroom? It's so loud, she practically jumps. What was that?

"Peeta?" she calls out. "It's me, Katniss. Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you -- ." The thought occurs to her that -- oh my God, does he have a woman in there? She should just duck out right now, pretend she never came. That's right, that's what she should do.

But just then, a red hot tide of fury comes over her. She clenches her fists. She knows -- yes, she knows there's another woman in there, in bed with Peeta. And even though she knows it shouldn't matter to her (not that much, anyway), she can't explain what she does next: she rushes to his bedroom, pushes the door open (it's not locked, which is a good sign), and sees Peeta on the bed.

There is something wrong with this picture. Peeta is naked. Not that there's anything wrong with Peeta naked, but usually when he's naked, he's relaxed, he's smiling, he's looking at her. Now, he just looks -- horribly angry. And his legs are moving -- thrashing, she'd say. He's yelling something at her but really, she can't process, she doesn't know 

"Peeta, what -- " is all she manages to get out before she's hit, hard, on the back of the head. She stumbles forward, but doesn't land on the ground. She manages to stay half-upright. The person who hit her is short, she knows from the angle from which the blow came. And she's not that strong. But the thing that hit her was the butt of a gun. She knows it from the very particular way it made contact with the back of her head. She's dizzy, but she's still okay. She's going to fight.


	56. A FIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this scene of Katniss in action. I know Ocean said she was a blackbelter in Jujitsu. I guess that was a lie.

When Katniss turns around, she grabs hold of her assailant's arm. It slips out of her grasp and the person -- who, Katniss sees in a blur of motion, is a small Asian woman -- drops a leg as if she's getting ready to release a flying kick. Even though Katniss is woozy, her reflexes are fast enough that she manages to evade the kick. She reaches out blindly and grabs the woman's leg. The woman aims a gun at her. Oh-oh. But Katniss knows she has to commit to this, she knows she can't let the sight of a gun scare her, she hangs on to the leg and pulls, as hard as she can. The woman loses her balance and screams with rage. She starts hitting Katniss wherever she can, then finally hurls the gun at her. It glances off Katniss's shoulder. Damn, it hurts like hell! Katniss grabs the woman's hair and yanks.

That's when she recognizes Ocean.

"You bitch!" Ocean is screaming. And she's naked.

But Katniss won't let herself dwell on that now. She forces Ocean's head down and pulls an arm behind her back. Ocean is twisted, groveling, on the ground. Katniss removes her handcuffs and snaps a cuff on one of Ocean's wrists. Then, she has no idea where she finds the strength, she half-drags Ocean, still kicking and screaming, towards the bed and fastens the other handcuff to a post.

She falls to her knees and starts looking around for Ocean's gun.

"It's to your right," Peeta says.

He sounds so calm. Katniss looks to her right. There's the gun, just a few feet away from her. She picks it up, checks whether it's loaded. It is.

Huh. She empties it. Five bullets, one empty chamber. She'll check whether that gun's been fired recently. She's guessing it has.

She puts a hand to the back of her head.

"You're bleeding," Peeta says. He looks absolutely white. That's when Katniss notices that his arms are tied to the bedposts. With leather thongs. What?

"I should have known," she sneers. "We'll check her for recent sexual activity, as a matter of course. Anything you want to tell me now? Before I call for a squad car?"

"She came last night," Peeta says.

"And this was your idea of fun, huh?"

"Will you stop accusing me and untie me?"

Katniss turns her back on him and staggers to the bathroom. She sinks to her knees beside the toilet bowl, grabs the sides to steady herself, and vomits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, this was a pretty sloppy fight. Katniss was completely blindsided, and I just kept talking myself into it, saying it doesn't matter, just have her grab SOMETHING.


	57. CONCUSSION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I know about concussions is what shannon17 put in the comments; I haven't had time to do any look-ups. Anyhoo, hope this chapter isn't too bad . . .

Katniss is still holding on to the toilet bowl rim when she hears Peeta calling her name, over and over and over.

She wipes her mouth, doesn't get up.

"WHAT?" she yells. "I'm a little bit busy right now."

"And I'm a little tied up right now!" Peeta yells back.

SHEESH!

Katniss staggers up (OW! Her head feels like it's going to split open. Come to think of it, maybe it IS slipping open. And her shoulder feels like it's splitting open as well.) She sways. She catches a look at herself in the bathroom mirror.

WHO IS THAT? THAT LADY IS SICK! THAT LADY NEEDS TO BE RUSHED TO THE HOSPITAL! OH IT'S ME! I NEED TO CALL AN AMBULANCE -- FOR MYSELF.

"Katniss, ARE YOU OKAY?" Peeta yells.

"Yeah," Katniss says. She opens the faucet and splashes some cool water on her face. Nope, doesn't help. She's still a mess.

"Come here and untie me before you pass out!" Peeta yells.

"Coming! Sheesh," Katniss says. She staggers out. On the way to him, she almost stumbles over Ocean. She gives Ocean a revenge kick, not too hard, just enough to make her squint.

She notices Ocean is bleeding, too.

DID YOU DO THAT, KATNISS?

Katniss staggers over to Peeta and her hands fumble at the knots. They feel as useless as sausages. "I can't -- I can't -- "

"Yes, you can," Peeta says firmly.

YES, YOU CAN, KATNISS!

It seems to take forever, though.

"Peeta," she grits out, as she's untying the last knot. "Do you have security in this building?"

"Of course," Peeta says.

"Then why aren't they coming? It must have sounded like Armageddon in here, minutes ago."

"The walls have extra soundproofing. The only way you'd hear anything is if someone blew a hole through a wall. That's why I chose this place."

 _Figures_.

She finishes untying one arm. He pushes her back gently. "I can do the other," he says. "Call 9-1-1."

"Okay," she says, and then sags to the bed. "Just gimme a minute . . . "

"No, Katniss!" she hears Peeta say. But she's slipping into unconsciousness.


	58. PEETA ANSWERS A FEW QUESTIONS (with bonus scene)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case is starting to come together.
> 
> Plutarch interviews Katniss in the hospital. Ocean's being treated in the hospital as well.

Peeta links his fingers over his head and stretches backwards, setting his chair creaking. He gave a statement to the first two officers on the scene, but Plutarch insisted he come to the station for a longer "interview." It's been over an hour now.

He came without objection, without demanding the presence of a lawyer. And it's just him and Plutarch in the interview room; any other observers are behind a one-way mirror.

"She gonna be all right?" he asks Plutarch.

"Hope so," Plutarch says, gruffly. He learned that there had been an incident in Peeta's apartment -- Peeta himself had called it in. He was absolutely incensed to learn that Katniss had gone over to Peeta's. After Plutarch had expressly warned her -- WARNED her -- that she should avoid getting too close to the man. And then, to learn that Katniss had been taken to the emergency room, she and the woman Ocean Dinh. To learn that she most likely was suffering from a concussion as the result of being hit on the back of her head with the butt of a handgun -- he'd seen red. His first instinct had been to rush to the hospital, but Thresh went with the ambulance and was able to give him a full run-down. Bottom line: Katniss was going to be okay, but the hospital was going to keep her for at least a day, just "for observation." She was sedated and unconscious.

"Haul Mellark in here," he'd barked.

"So, what exactly was Miss Dinh doing in your apartment?" Plutarch asks.

"She had a gun, I had to let her in," Peeta says.

"You knew her, right?" Plutarch says.

"I did," Peeta says.

"In what capacity?"

Peeta shifts slightly. He can sense Plutarch doesn't like him. He'll have even less reason to like Peeta now. Just how much influence does he have over Katniss? "She was -- I used her services through an agency," Peeta says.

"That same agency we have listed in your files? From before?"

"Yes," Peeta says.

"And do you have any idea why she forced her way into your apartment?"

Again, Peeta hesitates, just for a moment, but Plutarch, he is sure, picks up on it. "I had the feeling she expected Katniss to show up," he says.

"Did she have any evidence that led her to believe Kat -- Detective Everdeen -- would show up at your apartment?"

"I had the feeling she'd been following Katniss . . . "

"I see," Plutarch says. He's silent for several beats. "So Detective Everdeen made it a habit of going to your apartment."

"Not a habit, I wouldn't say that," Peeta says.

"How many times had she been there before? Once, twice?"

"I had given her the code. I don't know how often she used it. She usually came when I wasn't there."

Plutarch stares. He takes a deep breath before asking, "So, Detective Everdeen walked into your apartment. What then?"

"We were in the bedroom, Ocean and I."

Someone raps on the door.

"Yes?" Plutarch barks.

A detective pokes his head in. "You said to let you know as soon as Detective Everdeen woke up?"

Plutarch stands. He says to Peeta, "We'll be continuing this conversation, Mr. Mellark."

"Sure," Peeta says.

*     *     *

Katniss is in bed, her head swathed in a thick bandage. Her shoulder's in a sling. She stares daggers at the physical therapist who waves a little ball on a string in front of her eyes.

"Now, just follow the ball with your eyes, Katniss. We have to check to make sure your eyes movement hasn't been impaired."

Katniss rolls her eyes.

"Detective," the physical therapist sighs. "Could you -- "

Just then, the room door bangs open and an agitated Plutarch walks in.

"Excuse me?" the physical therapist says.

"I'm her supervisor. I need to take a statement."

"Umm," the therapist says. She looks over at Katniss, who shakes her head.

"All right," the therapist says to Plutarch. "Don't tire her out too much. She took quite a blow."

Plutarch waits until the therapist leaves the room. Then he walks up to Katniss, takes in the bandages, and says, in a clipped tone, "I see you've been busy."

"Same old, same old," Katniss answers wryly. Her tongue feels sluggish. She really hopes Plutarch doesn't give her the third-degree here.

"Just for a second, like a fool, I thought you would listen to me," Plutarch says. "I thought we agreed you'd keep you distance from Mellark."

"Plu, I have. But sometimes I need a fresh set of eyes. And he's the one. He sees things I don't."

"Such as -- ?" Plutarch says, lifting an eyebrow.

"Such as -- Ocean. Have you interviewed her yet?"

Plutarch says, "Not yet. But we'll get there. What was she doing in Mellark's apartment?"

Katniss says, "Umm. I don't know."

Plutarch's lips grow thin. "He says she pulled a gun on him."

"Then she did."

"This a he said/she said? I hate those types of things," Plutarch says.

"But she could also be the killer of Alison Gaynor and Eva DeLancey," Katniss says. "Have you tested the gun yet?"

"It's been sent to the lab. Uniforms on the scene said she was naked."

"She was."

"So was he. So she pulled a gun on him to have sex?"

"No! Plu, I'm still a little woozy. Can we have this conversation later? Like, tonight?"

"You're in this now, Katniss. We can't wait; I want to have a good set of questions ready for Ocean when she wakes up."

"Why don't you ask Peeta why she pulled a gun on him?"

"I did. He said she was expecting you at his place. She wanted to ambush you."

Katniss is silent. Then she says, her fingers curled up now on top of the hospital sheets, "Did you ask him why?"

"She was jealous. Not of you. Of _him_."

"Of _him_? Peeta? That doesn't make any sense," Katniss says.

"She was the lover of Alison Gaynor. At least that's what Peeta says she told him."

 


	59. JUST A QUICK ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third try with writing this chapter. You have no idea. So hard to cut down the banter with these two!

"Hey."

Katniss's eyes crack open. Peeta's standing next to her hospital bed, his blue eyes full of emotion. Something like -- guilt?

"Plutarch just left," she manages to say. She's exhausted. But she won't -- can't -- send him away. She needs him. Like a drug. She's always been that person.

He takes her hand, squeezes.

"You're going to be okay," he says, trying to convince her.

"So are you," she croaks.

"Thanks," he says. "For saving my life."

"It was nothing," Katniss says. "Any time."

"I'm glad you're okay."

They're silent, just looking at each other. Drinking each other in. Finally, Peeta moves. "I have to go. Plutarch's waiting outside. Said he'd give me five minutes."

She squeezes his hand, then lets go. He does something inexplicable. After glancing quickly over his shoulder, he bends down, places his mouth over hers. Just the lightest touch. When he moves away, she almost lifts out of the bed, she craves him that much.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says.

"I'll be here," she says.

He backs away from the bed, not turning around until he actually bumps into the door. Then he slips out. Katniss closes her eyes.


	60. KATNISS GETS TO GO HOME

Katniss is released from the hospital. Plutarch drives her home.

"I don't want to see you at work until next week," he tells her.

"Ocean?" she asks.

"She's under arrest," Plutarch says. "She's in jail until she can post bond."

The nice doctor, the one she met several months ago, Finnick Odair, drops by just before she's released. He's so handsome that all the nurses stare the minute he gets off the elevator to her floor. The air in Katniss's room gets as heated as a downtown bar on a Saturday night, with one nurse after another coming to check on her. Annie, the forensics tech, just happens to be visiting. Annie and Dr. Odair have an eye-lock moment: green on green, magnetic attraction, oh hey, everyone forgets about the patient.

It figures.

Katniss thinks back to what happened: Ocean had hit her hard. All Katniss could think was that she had to stay on her feet. Some instinct told her that if she went down, there was only a very slim chance that she'd ever get up again.

The last really awful crime scene she'd investigated: a wife had been killed by a woman she worked with, an office-mate, who wanted her husband. The wife called in sick one day, the killer came to the apartment, the wife let her in, thinking nothing of it.

Practically the whole house had been a crime scene. The fight had been terrific: the blood trail led from the living room, up the stairs, and ended in the bedroom. The wife had given it everything she'd got: lamps had been smashed, and glasses thrown. Family photos were pulled off the walls, blood streaking across the walls of the upper hallway. For some reason, it all ended in the bedroom. For some reason -- Katniss imagined out of some instinct for safety, a memory maybe of the husband holding her and comforting her in their bed -- the wife had headed there. And that's where it all ended for her because in the bedroom was where the wife went down for the last time.

Peeta drops by, a dozen roses in a crystal vase. His eyes are clouded with guilt.

"It's not your fault," Katniss tells him. She kisses his cheek and twines her arms around his neck, he pulls away.

"You're not . . . maybe we shouldn't . . . " he says.

Katniss wants to kill him. But his hesitation causes her to shift a little further away on the sofa. She takes him in: his hair, his eyes, the shadows under his eyes, his shoulders. He's wearing a suit, he must have come from work. She picks up his right wrist, turns it over gently. There are very faint marks, hardly anything.

"So, leather huh?" she says, thoughtful. "Those yours?"

Someone lets herself in: it's her mother. She rushes to the couch and says, "Oh, honey." They hug each other tight and don't let go for a long time. It feels good to be hugged. Yes, it feels very, very good.

And, as if anyone can forget about Peeta's presence. Katniss introduces them, of course: _Mom, this is Peeta. Peeta, this is my mother._ Peeta and her mother exchange polite nods. There's a glint of understanding in her mother's eyes as she looks at Peeta and takes him in.

Katniss keeps tabs on the case. She calls Plutarch. They've gotten a warrant and searched Ocean's apartment: there's nothing much there. A small, neat stack of bills next to the bed. She hasn't lived there very long.

The landlady wants to know what Ocean got mixed up in, but the police won't say.


	61. KATNISS CLIMBING THE WALLS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just added a wee Peeta scene at the end. These two are getting so cozy, they can read each other's minds.

When she's on a case, she gets jumpy.

It doesn't help that her mother gets all touchy feely these days. After so many years of hands-off, detached parenting, her mother calls twice a day, then drops by for dinner.

Which means -- Peeta is basically nowhere.

After that day when he showed up in a suit, bearing flowers, her mother asks all the time: Are you seeing that guy?

Her mother doesn't have to add: _He's really good-looking. You'd better snag him before someone else does._ She said that about Cato, too, and look how that ended up. _  
_

It's killing her to be in the apartment. It's an animal thing: she wants to know WHY WHY WHY. And she won't stop asking WHY until she gets an answer.

Peeta lays it all out for her, what happened that day with Ocean. And what he doesn't say, she doesn't need to know. Plutarch will fill in the rest. She often wonders if Gale is right: she should just transfer out to another precinct, where Plutarch won't be breathing down her neck all the time. But that will probably mean OUT OF SAN FRANCISCO. And out of San Francisco means no Peeta. And --

She'll never be a private detective. Peeta brought it up, and she just about bit his head off.

"Why?" she asked him.

"It'll be less stressful," he tells her. "You won't just be on murder cases. Murder cases wear you down."

"I'm good at what I do," she tells him.

He's quiet for a moment, then says, "I know you are. Forget I said anything."

It's one of the rare nights when Katniss is alone. Katniss's mom has A DATE, of all things. It's Friday night, and the guy's taking her for dinner at Morton's Steakhouse on Geary ("You don't even like steak," she told her mother, and her mother said, "There's other things to order at Morton's Steakhouse. Please, Katniss. It's not as if I haven't been there before. When your father was -- " Katniss just tuned her out at that point)

She calls Plutarch every day to get the skinny on Ocean.

"She made a full confession," Plutarch tells her.

That's not the answer Katniss needs. She wants to know WHY.

"Katniss, can you just give it a rest? The woman's undergoing a full psychiatric evaluation. We're still piecing it all together. Oh, by the way, your man's been pretty helpful."

"No, shit," Katniss says. Then, "What do you mean 'my man'?"

"Like I said, he's been pretty helpful. I'll tell you more when you come in next week."

"I'm coming in tomorrow."

Plutarch heaves a big sigh. "Could you just -- not tomorrow. Monday next week, maybe."

"I miss the squad," Katniss says softly. "I miss work."

That night, she's glumly considering the meal options in her fridge -- one half-used pack of Buitoni three-cheese ravioli, a jar of Ragu marinara pasta sauce, a few sprigs of parsley, half an onion, three cloves of garlic, a half-stick of salted butter, half-a-dozen eggs -- when she hears someone knock smartly at her door.

"Just come on in," she yells. "I'm in the kitchen!"

"Okay, I'm in," Peeta says. "I brought dinner for three, and thought I'd mull us some cider. Get out of my way."

"Actually, Mom's not coming tonight," Katniss says.

"She isn't?" Peeta says, looking disappointed. Mock disappointed, more likely.

"She's got a date," Katniss says.

"Woot hoot," Peeta says drily. "What. Ever. Shall. We. Do."

Katniss glances quickly up at him -- he's at least a foot taller and he's standing right next to her so she has to strain her neck a little and -- ouch! She lowers her head. "Trying to be funny, Mellark? Ha. Ha."

"Like I said, get out of my way so I can work my magic."

Does everything he says always have to have that double meaning?

She sticks her head into the plastic bag he's set on the counter. "Mm. Smells heavenly. What is it?"

"Beef lasagna," he shrugs. "I know you're not a vegetarian."

"And the other container?"

"Just green salad. There's some garlic bread that needs warming up."

She watches his back as he prepares the cider. Is he aware that she's standing just two feet away, watching him? He's not wearing a suit. He's dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Did he even go to work today?

"Stop looking at my ass, Everdeen. You're such a creeper."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything Peeta says in the scene at the end is a joke. He's aware of course that Katniss finds him hot (at least, unlike Ocean, she plays on his team), but -- fantastic self-control, on both parts. I'm thinking I'll just leave you guessing whether they actually do have sex that night.


	62. OCEAN INTERVIEW # 2

Ocean's sitting in Interview Room # 1: it's the "special room," the one where they put the suspects of the most newsworthy cases. And Ocean's case IS spectacular. Since there hasn't been a woman serial killer -- ever, in San Francisco. Or maybe just the last century. But. Still.

Plutarch is a hair away from banning Katniss from the station that day. Katniss's voice breaks as she argues with him. "It's MY fucking case, Plutarch," she says. "If it weren't for me and Peeta, she'd still be on the loose." Plutarch finally relents, acknowledging that anyone who's spent as much time on the case as Katniss has -- she's spent almost a full year on it -- has some claim to ownership.

Ocean's confessed to the murders of Alison Gaynor and Eva DeLancey. Gail's been sprung from prison and received a rare apology from Plutarch. He accepted Plutarch's apology gracefully, said he's just happy to be exonerated. The charges about beating Alison Gaynor, though. Those can't be dismissed. He's officially on leave until that charge is settled.

Katniss doesn't know what she'll do if she sees him again. He was such a jerk, the kind of macho/crude guy who'd exploit all a woman's vulnerabilities.

Wait -- isn't Peeta like that, too? She bristles at the thought. Is Peeta a pattern? Only the latest proof of her own dysfunction?

It bothers Katniss to even make the comparison. It's just as well Peeta tells her he thinks they should be "just friends" for now. It pains her, because she still wants him. She doesn't know if he said that because he has someone he's already hooked up with, or whether it's because he really does think it's better for both of them in the long run to take things slow.

It makes things easier with Plutarch in the sense that she doesn't have to lie to him. But now, Katniss thinks, now Plutarch has his own little secret. She thinks it has to do with the fact that he and Glimmer broke up, not too long ago. Glimmer, poor girl, hadn't seen it coming. She's depressed, walks around the station with her head down. That won't last. Gale's already making his moves.

Katniss is behind the one-way mirror, looking at Ocean in Interview Room # 1. Ocean looks terrible. Gone is the fabulous girl who rocked a blunt haircut and short boots, who turned heads wherever she went. Now she's thin and wan, sits hunched over. But, when she speaks, she directs her remarks to the mirror, not to Plutarch and Thresh, who are sitting directly across from her. It's as if she knows Katniss is there.

She waived her right to a lawyer, but the court assigned her a public defender anyway. Just a way of making sure all the T's are crossed when the case goes to trial. The public defender is an older woman, who everyone knows by her nickname, Mags. She'll do her best for Ocean, Katniss knows.

Plutarch is the lead questioner, of course. He asks if she acted alone, and Ocean says yes. Plutarch asks if she would have let an innocent man (referring to Gale) go to prison just so she could avoid getting caught. Ocean hesitates a long time before this one. She finally says, in a voice so soft it's practically a whisper, "Yes." Then she adds: "I knew he was a creep. I thought his profile would make him -- vulnerable."

The questions focus on Ocean's motives. She says she was in love with Alison Gaynor, and it upset her that Alison seemed to like Peeta Mellark, a lot. They'd been together often.

"You and Alison?" Thresh asks.

"No. I meant Alison and Peeta. Alison and I were never together. I loved her, but she didn't love me back."

"So you killed her out of -- jealousy?"

"She told me she was going to see Peeta again -- that would have made it the second time that month. It was beginning to sound like more than a business relationship. I couldn't stand it."

"Did you beat her up?" Plutarch asks.

"No," Ocean says, emphatically shaking her head. "Alison told me a cop had done it. He wanted her to implicate Peeta, and when she refused, he beat her up. Then, when she was in the emergency room, she was too scared to identify the cop as her attacker."

"So," Plutarch says. "You killed Alison because she was beginning to like Peeta? Why not take out Peeta?"

"I wasn't planning to kill Alison," Ocean says sadly. "We were having an argument. I had a gun. Just for my own protection. Most girls who work in the business have one, in case they need to defend themselves. I don't know what happened. I think I blacked out. All I know is that, after, I was staring at Alison's body on the floor. There was so much blood."

Katniss bites her lip and walks out of the observation room.

That evening, she gets a call from Peeta. "Hey, how are you?" he asks.

"Fine," she says. She doesn't feel the need to tell him about Ocean's interview. "I was about to go for a run."

"That's funny, because I was thinking of going for a run, too."

"Well, I'm going right now."

"Yeah, I'm right in front of your building."

When Katniss steps outside, he's right there. Already in running gear. The gear that looks more like tights than --

Katniss looks away. "Just happened to be passing by my building, huh?"

"Yeah."

"That's -- what. A good two miles from your place. At least."

"I needed to work out some tension. Long runs help."

That smile is on his face. That wicked smile.

She cracks a half-grin. "Me, too. Let's go."

They run for a good 20 minutes, neither of them speaking. Then, Katniss puts up a hand and stops. She takes lungfuls of the cold foggy air then says, "You know, I didn't catch her. It wasn't my outstanding policework that solved this case. Yet I get the credit. It really should be you."

Peeta shakes his head. "You're wrong. You got her to trust you."

"She'd never have admitted to those murders, not to me. You did it, Peeta."

"Me?" Peeta smiles wryly. "I was tied up on a bed. And then you came and saved me."

"I don't think she'd have killed you."

"She'd have killed YOU." Peeta's face suddenly goes solemn.

Katniss feels a chill. He's right. Ocean would have killed her. Wanted to kill her.

"Hey," he says. She snaps her head up, not realizing she's lost a few seconds inside her head. Peeta cups her cheek with one hand. She turns her head and kisses the base of his palm, just above his wrist.


	63. A NEW YEAR, A NEW CASE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta, despite the "cooling off" in this chapter, is still around.
> 
> He'll be involved in this case, don't worry.

How did 2017 pass so quickly, Katniss muses.

She's running, of course. It's 8:36 a.m. She's on Stockton street, late January. 2018 is supposed to be the Year of the Dog. No, not just Year of the Dog. Year of the Earth Dog.

No, stop. Don't think of Peeta. They don't see each other. The case is over. They haven't spoken in three months.

She runs up Stockton Street, past the pedestrian tunnel. The manholes are smoking again. Work, there's always work going on.

Yesterday, a murder in Chinatown. A woman in an old building, one that houses the Fujien Benevolent Association.

The victim was tiny. She could have been anything from fifty to eighty. She was a grandmother. Her grand-daughter found her, called her Ah-ma.

Ah-ma stayed home. Ah-ma took care of her grand-daughter after school. The grand-daughter's name was Charmaine. Her mother worked in a fortune cookie factory. Ah-ma had consulted a fortune-teller about the whereabouts of Charmaine's father. This was not her first attempt with this particular fortune-teller. The fortune-teller was well-known in the community. People paid a lot of money for one session, which usually lasted about half an hour.

The fortune-teller's name was Willow. She made her reputation a half-dozen years ago, when Charmaine's mother and father were about to get married. Ah-ma consulted the fortune-teller about the auspiciousness of the match. Willow had said: It is a business arrangement only. The man is gay. Ah-ma's daughter, Stephanie, refused to believe it. So Ah-ma consulted another fortune teller, a palm reader. The palm reader didn't tell Ah-ma much, only that this would not be an auspicious marriage.

So then Ah-ma tried one last time, with a tea reader. And this one gave Ah-ma the most terrible knowledge of all: "He will kill you. Your daughter's husband will kill you."

The fact that this morning run takes Katniss through Chinatown is not a coincidence. Her alert eyes gaze right and left, right and left. She passes the store that sells the expensive green and black tea. She passes a restaurant with an array of ducks hanging from hooks in the front window.

She thought, if she ran early enough, she'd miss the tourists. But here they are already, in force. It's close to the Chinese New Year, of course they'd be out in force. She hears the distant pop of firecrackers. At most of the Chinese bakeries, the line for the red bean, double-egg mooncakes is out the door.


	64. A NEW CASE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my way of trying to write my way back into this story -- mainly I'm just establishing atmosphere and setting (Chinatown, San Francisco)

The smell of incense fills the narrow stairway of the Yue-Shan Society building, a social club for immigrants with roots in Guangzhou, a city in southern China (Katniss had to look all of this up. In the past few days, Google has become her closest friend). As she scrutinizes the lobby (worn carpet, a wall of mirrors, a dingy chandelier), she hears the faint, rhythmic tok-tok-tok of a ping-pong ball on a table. Through a half-open door, she sees a game of mahjong being played. Then she feels eyes on her. She whirls. A young woman is standing a few feet away.

"Hello," the young woman says, in perfect, un-accented English. She comes forward and extends a hand. "I'm Melody Ma."

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me," Katniss says.

"Of course!" Melody says, her eyes blurring a little. "Ah-ma and my grandmother were very close. They met here almost every day. I still can't believe someone would do that to her."

"Can I speak to your grandmother?" Katniss asks.

Melody drops her gaze. She shakes her head. "No, it's too soon. She doesn't even know about Ah-ma. I haven't been able to tell her. I walked her here, and all she could talk about was having a mahjong game with Ah-ma. Luckily, there were other people here who wanted to play, so she's in there right now." Melody indicates the room with the half-open door.

"I understand," Katniss says, nodding sympathetically. "Thank you for meeting with me anyway."

"If there's anything I can do to help you find Ah-ma's murderer," Melody clenches her fists. "I'll do it. No one should have to die that way."

She takes Katniss into a little parlor, and closes the door. "Would you like some tea?" she asks. Katniss shakes her head. She doesn't want any distractions, she wants to remember everything Melody Ma tells her.

Katniss sits on a worn sofa, and Melody perches on an armchair across from her. After taking out her notebook (she is stubbornly old-fashioned, despite the way people stare; no one in San Francisco even knows what a pencil is anymore, Katniss knows), she starts asking questions: how long had Ah-ma been living in San Francisco, how long Melody's grandmother (Fang-liang is the grandmother's name; Katniss has to say it out loud a few times before she gets down the pronunciation) and Ah-ma knew each other.

After almost an hour, Katniss feels she's barely scratched the surface. She frowns at her scrawled notes. Melody sighs. "This is a terribly disgraceful thing to happen in the community," Melody says. "There are hardly any murders here. Certainly not of elderly women. Our tradition teaches us to revere our elders."

Katniss cocks an eyebrow. Surely, Melody is aware that there are gangs that operate in Chinatown. For the past decade, they've kept their activities discreet, but to say that there are hardly any murders in Chinatown is an understatement at best and, at worst, a delusion.

Melody continues: "How could anyone do that to Ah-mah? She wouldn't hurt a fly!"

What Katniss learns is that Ah-ma was angry at her daughter's husband for abandoning his family.

"My grandmother told me that sometimes Ah-mah and Grace would argue. She accused Grace of seeing her husband in secret, behind her back, and she wanted Grace to have nothing to do with him." What the husband did, Melody doesn't know. "He left a while back," Melody says. "When Charmaine was still an infant. I never met him."

Melody also can't give her much information on Ah-ma's daughter, Grace. "We'd bump into each other sometimes, but that's about it. She worked at the fortune cookie factory, that's all I know," Melody says.

"Did she come here much?" Katniss asks.

"You mean -- Grace? Oh, no. She had no free time. She worked two jobs, I think. The fortune cookie factory and after the end of her shift, she waitressed at Grant's Palace, that restaurant on Grant and Stockton." Katniss has never heard of it, but she makes a note to check it out.

Katniss thanks Melody and learns that the funeral for Ah-ma will be in three days' time. "Of course, Grace is not paying for the funeral expenses, she can't afford to. The Yue-Shan Society will pay. That is what it means to be a community. You are welcome to attend, if you wish."

Katniss says she will be there. Then, she takes her leave, telling Melody she might need to talk to her some more. Right now, she's still following up on a few other leads.

As she leaves the building, Katniss looks up and sees a tall condominium tower, rising a couple of blocks away. Directly across the street from the condominium tower is a cardboard sign attached to a rickety wooden fence: SAVE CHINATOWN FROM DEVELOPMENT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't bring Peeta into the case yet! I will, though. Grace, the daughter of Ah-ma, works part-time in a restaurant called Grant's Palace, so that might be one way Katniss and Peeta meet again.


	65. AN ANXIOUS BRIDE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an update on Peeta. So, umm, he is still a chick magnet. And he's still the manager of the Ritz Carlton on Nob Hill. Which is actually not that far from Chinatown. Just a couple of blocks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help! This chapter just keeps getting longer and longer! IDK . . . these two stubborn people, fighting their feelings with everything they've got.

Everything, Peeta feels, is too much. The past three months have been work, nothing but work. There are two back-to-back wedding receptions at the Ritz-Carlton on Sunday. Both events have hired their own wedding planners. The brides come almost every day, having a meltdown.

"Too much blue, what do you think, Peeta?" one of the brides asks him, batting her false eyelashes.

"It's fine," Peeta says. "It'll be great."

The bride-to-be huffs, dissatisfied with the response.

"I know the florist. It'll be great," Peeta says.

"I'm just -- " the woman says, flapping her hands in the air.

Nail extensions, Peeta thinks. Katniss would never . . .

He tells himself to stop. Stop comparing every woman to Katniss. It won't work; she doesn't respect him. Great for sex, but that's it.

"I should relax. After all, I trust you," the woman says, resting a hand on his forearm. The expression on her face as she looks up at him is vaguely puppy-like. Maybe even adoring? He's used to this. He moves slightly, ever so slightly, a little further away.

"What time is the wedding planner coming?" he asks.

"Oh!" the woman says, with an annoyed snort. "Who knows! I should never have hired one. You're more than enough for any wedding planning."

"You flatter me," Peeta says, wishing this conversation were over. He wished it were over half an hour ago.

"Umm, do you have plans for lunch?" the woman asks. Peeta tries to remember her name. He blanks out.

"Unfortunately, yes," Peeta says.

"You work so hard!" the woman murmurs, disappointment oozing from her voice.

"Well, it's my job," Peeta says. "I want to make everything perfect for your big day."

The woman sighs and leans forward. She's about to rest a hand on his shoulder. Or on his cheek. Or whatever. Peeta reaches for his cell, again moving slightly away. "Would you excuse me a moment? I need to take this call."

"Fine," the woman says, frowning.

"It'll take some time," Peeta says. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He doesn't wait for her response. He's miming speaking to someone as he walks away. Is she still watching him? How long does he have to pretend to be talking to someone? He glances quickly over his shoulder. The woman -- he thinks her name is Honey. Yes, that's right, Honey, is still standing where he left her, watching. He gives a slight wave and presses the Up button of the elevator. He's afraid the woman might follow and prays the elevator comes quickly. It does.

Peeta steps in the elevator and turns toward the doors, the phone still pressed firmly to his ear. Honey stands in place and gives him a small wave. He waves back. The elevator doors close. Peeta sighs with relief. He puts his phone away.

He wishes he could head home. He'd bake something. Baking always calms him. He closes his eyes, trying to conjure the comforting scent of cloves and cinnamon, orange peel and vanilla. He can't help releasing a small sigh of pleasure, followed immediately by the memory of a pair of mesmerizing gray eyes.

Much later that evening, when he's finally home, Peeta throws himself on the bed. It's a big bed, and Peeta's never been as lonely in it as he's been the last three months. He runs a hand through his hair, deliberately mussing it. "Fuck, Katniss," he breathes. "It's been three months. This is such bullshit."

He's resisted keeping tabs on her. He could have done, easily. He smiles bitterly. He has his ways.

He dozes off, too tired to even think about changing. The phone vibrating in his pocket wakes him. He fumbles for it in his pocket, cursing softly when he hears a seam tear. By the time he finally has the phone pressed against his ear, the caller has given up. He checks Caller ID but even before he sees her name, he knows.

Wearily, he drags himself upright and calls back. The ringing goes on forever. Still with the phone pressed to his ear, he stumbles to the sliding glass doors, pushes them open, and steps onto his balcony. The city lies before him, the usual fog absent this night. He can see the peaks, the valleys, hear the ringing of the streetcars, the drunken yells, the muttering of the homeless who camp out in front of the Catholic church down the block. _Come on_ , he whispers futilely.

 _It's cold_ , he thinks. _I'm cold._

He wraps his arms around himself and heads back inside to take a warm shower.

He takes his time, thinking about her.

_She's only a few blocks away, Peeta. Go to her._

He growls, shakes his head forcefully. Drops of water spray the shower walls.

 _No,_ he says. _Peeta, you dog. No._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got bit by the creative bug and decided to focus on Peeta's loneliness.
> 
> Stay tuned.


	66. GRANT'S PALACE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, Katniss and Peeta don't meet yet in this chapter, but never fear, their lives are about to intersect very, very soon.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading this far, and for leaving comments on the last chapter: I will do my best to make this story worthy!

There's something wrong with Grace, the waitress at Grant's Palace, where Peeta's gone for lunch. He walks the 10 blocks from the Ritz-Carlton when he needs to get away from the constant pressure of weddings and famous guests. Chinatown is as far away from the Ritz-Carlton as he can get without actually calling for a car. He likes the walk, the sidewalks of Chinatown spilling over with produce that, on slow days, he can actually purchase to bring home later.

The weddings that are happening on the weekend are absolute nightmares -- not because of logistical problems but because -- well, because one of the brides is absolutely nuts. Honey, soon to be Mrs. St. Pier, wife of the celebrity plastic surgeon whose client list includes LaToya Jackson and Meg Ryan, has been relentless, calling him at all times of the day and night, claiming to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She seems to feel she's entitled to have Peeta by her side throughout, calming her nerves. He wouldn't mind if she were actually nice -- or, even, interesting. But she's spoiled and self-indulgent and her motives are pathetically obvious, at least they are to Peeta. He sighs. He hopes she'll stop pestering him after the wedding, but somehow, given what he's seen of her so far, he doubts it.

Who is he kidding? He walks to Chinatown because it allows him to pass Katniss's building. For three months he's prayed for a sighting -- but she's either changed her route or moved because he hasn't caught one glimpse. He shakes his head ruefully, wondering when he began to act like a lovesick puppy.

Grace, his usual waitress, hands him his order -- slices of roast duck over a steaming mound of sticky rice, Chinese mushrooms, and lotus leaves. She's forgotten his tea and he has to remind her. It's only as he's reminding her that he notices: Grace's eyes are puffy and red. She's been crying. A lot.

"Is something wrong?" Peeta asks.

Grace shakes her head, but it doesn't fool Peeta.

"What's happened?" he asks.

At that, she suddenly grimaces and chokes out, "Ah-mah. Ah-mah. She -- " She breaks off, starts sobbing, and runs away from the table.

Peeta stares after her, open-mouthed. In the next moment, Peeta can hear voices behind a folding screen that blocks the sight of the kitchen. One of the voices is that of a woman sobbing -- probably, Peeta knows, Grace. The other voice is an angry man's voice, and it's this voice that has Peeta seeing red. He rises from the table.

Another waitress hurries up to him. "Can I help you?" the second waitress asks.

"Grace," Peeta says, gesturing toward the kitchen. "My waitress. She -- "

"It's nothing," the second waitress says. "She's okay. Have a seat, sir. Have a seat."

Peeta hesitates. He knows there's something wrong, but he doesn't want to cause a scene. He eventually nods and heads back to his table. He goes through the motions of eating, but his mind is far, far away from the food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Do you like Grace the waitress as the catalyst? Hope so!


	67. THEY MEET AGAIN!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little more complicated than I intended, but anyhoo.
> 
> Finally, Katniss and Peeta meet! At Grant's Palace.

On Friday, Peeta returns for lunch to Grant's Palace. It's been a few days since Grace ran from his table in tears. He thinks he heard something on the news about a murder in Chinatown -- an elderly lady. Was she someone Grace knew? Grace had sobbed something that sounded like "Ah-mah."

The restaurant's busy; Peeta is relieved when Grace waits on him. Her eyes, while still expressing some hurt, are no longer as puffy as they were the last time. She still seems distracted, however.

Peeta asks, "How are you?"

Grace says, "Fine. Fine. Sorry for last." But she seems in a hurry.

Peeta gives her his order and watches as Grace darts towards the kitchen. Before she reaches it, though, a little girl comes towards her, crying and rubbing her eyes.

Grace berates the child in a stream of Cantonese. It's probably hers, Peeta thinks. The little girl is five, six? She looks in bad shape, rubbing both fists into her eyes. Grace turns the child around and points towards the kitchen. The girl wails. Out of the corner of his eye, Peeta sees the manager approaching. He looks thunderous. This is when Peeta gets a crazy idea. He walks towards the child and says, "Hello."

The girl stops crying, amazed at the sight of him. Peeta crouches down in front of the girl. He's aware that Grace is staring, stupefied.

"What's your name?" Peeta asks.

The girl whispers, "Charmaine."

"That's a pretty name," Peeta says. "Have you eaten? Would you like to join me at my table?"

Grace says something peremptory and unintelligible. By this time, the manager has reached them. A stream of abuse is directed towards the little girl.

"Hey," Peeta says. And the manager stops, clearly intimidated by this obviously rich, important man with brilliant blue eyes. "Why not let her sit with me while her mom gets my order? I like kids. She'll be fine with me, I promise."

The manager starts to demur, saying, "No, you don't need to do that. I do my waitress a favor because her mother just died. The mother used to baby-sit the girl. But now she has no baby-sitter, and there's no school today. So I let Grace bring her daughter here. But if she bothers the customers . . . that's no good!"

"She's not bothering me," Peeta says, taking Charmaine's hand. "I think I know how to keep her busy."

Grace nods, and Peeta leads Charmaine to his table. When she's seated across from him, he takes out a sketchbook. He was an art student back in the day, and still likes to make sketches of people. Now he slides his sketchbook over to Charmaine, along with a set of charcoal pencils. "You like to draw?"

Charmaine's eyes are very round. She nods.

"Well, then, can you draw me something?" Peeta asks.

"Draw what?" Charmaine whispers.

"Anything," Peeta says. "Anything you feel like drawing."

Hesitantly, Charmaine picks up a pencil.

"Take your time," Peeta encourages her. He's about to say something else, then freezes. A cop's just entered the restaurant.

It's a windy day, Peeta knows from when he walked over. The cop wears her hair in a braid, but a few tendrils have escaped and the cop tucks these impatiently behind her ears. Her eyes scan the restaurant, then stop. She stares at Peeta.

"Katniss," Peeta murmurs.

Katniss starts walking towards him, then notices the little girl at his table and stops. "Who -- who's this?" she asks.

"This is Charmaine," Peeta says. "Charmaine, say hello to Katniss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make sure I got all the details right by re-reading the first chapter on this case. I wanted to make their meeting really random, but also consistent, if that makes any sense. Hope you liked it!


	68. LUNCH WITH PEETA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta turns on the charm.

"Care to join us?" Peeta asks Katniss.

Please say yes, Peeta thinks.

"I can't," Katniss says. "I'm on a case. What brings you here?"

"This is where I have lunch. When things get too -- " Peeta gestures in the air.

"Crazy," Katniss says. "I get it." She turns to Charmaine. "And you're his lunch companion?"

Before Charmaine can answer, Peeta says, "I'm her babysitter."

"Her babysitter!" Katniss exclaims. She turns to Charmaine again. "Is he a good babysitter?"

Charmaine nods. She pushes over the sketchpad so that Katniss can see it. It's a drawing of a woman. Definitely a woman. Hair pulled into a tight bun. A round face.

"Why don't you finish it?" Katniss says. "You're very good."

Suddenly, Charmaine's lips tremble. "Ah-mah died," she whispers.

Katniss stiffens. Ah-mah! Is that --

Tears are rolling down Charmaine's cheeks. She starts to sob.

"Oh, honey!" Katniss says, rising quickly and putting an arm around the little girl. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!"

At that point, Grace appears at the table. "Charmaine!" she says. "Come with me."

Katniss turns her head. The woman bears a strong resemblance to Charmaine. This must be Charmaine's mother.

Katniss straightens and introduces herself: "I'm Katniss Everdeen. With SFPD. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Not now!" Grace says, sharply. "Charmaine, come!"

"She can stay with me," Peeta says quickly.

"Very kind of you, sir, but no." Grace extends her arm towards her daughter. After a moment, Charmaine slips her small hand into her mother's. The little girl turns to Peeta: "Can I keep the picture?"

"Of course!" Peeta says. Carefully, he rips the page out of his sketchbook. Then he hands it to Charmaine.

Grace watches with an impassive look on her face. "What do we say, Charmaine?" Grace says.

"Thank you," Charmaine whispers. She smiles at Peeta.

"You're welcome!" Peeta says, with a brilliant smile. He's floating on Cloud 9 right now. Katniss is beside him. The day has suddenly done a 180 degree turn, from stressful to blissful.

The manager comes. "Excuse me, miss," he says to Katniss. "Were you going to order or -- ?"

"She's with me," Peeta says. "She's joining me for lunch."

"Of course, sir!" the manager says. "We'll set another place. Would your friend like to order from the lunch menu, or will she have the dimsum menu?"

"I'm not -- " Katniss begins.

"She'll have the roast duck rice bowl," Peeta says. "It's her favorite. And please bring more tea."

Grace says, "I'll bring the tea right away, sir." She hurries off, tugging Charmaine by the arm. The manager follows her. Peeta's ears prick up; he wouldn't like a repeat of the scene the other day, with the manager yelling at Grace. When he turns back to look at Katniss, she has a quizzical expression on her face.

"Ah-mah used to baby-sit Charmaine," he says.

"So you're filling in," Katniss says, sarcastic.

Peeta shrugs. "I just happened to be available."

"Oh, really?" Katniss says.

"What about you? What brings you here? I've been coming here for years. What's your excuse?"

"I told you, I'm working on a case," Katniss says.

Suddenly, it hits Peeta. The jolt in his chest is unexpected. "Ah-mah was murdered," he says.

Katniss hisses, "Lower your voice! I don't want the whole restaurant to know. I can explain to you -- after."

Peeta nods. "Fine. You can walk me back to my hotel."

"I'm doing no such thing," Katniss says. "You're a big boy."

"Listen, let me help you with this," Peeta says. "I know Charmaine's mother."

"Oh, of course you do," Katniss says.

"My, my, Everdeen. You don't have to insinuate. Grace has much better taste than that."

Katniss blushes. Actually blushes. She bites her lip. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm -- I'm just surprised, that's all."


	69. FURTHER IN THE CONVERSATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is like a Part 2 of the previous chapter. Technically, I should have put the two together, but anyhoo . . . 
> 
> Peeta brings up some history between himself and Katniss.

"Katniss," Peeta says, his voice low, "Why must you always be so prickly?"

Katniss stares. "I'm NOT," she says.

"Must everything be a competition with you? It's not just you against the world, you know. You've got to let some people in."

"I do let people in. Sorry if that group doesn't include you," Katniss says.

Now it's Peeta who flushes. But he doesn't give up. "Can't we just start over? And be like we were -- friends?"

"Start over? What do you mean? There was no 'we' . . . "

"How quickly one forgets. Eva DeLancey? Alison Gaynor? Ocean? Those names ring any bells? By the way, how's Gale doing these days? You make up with him? Best friends again?"

"Charming," Katniss says, starting to get up.

"No, wait -- " Peeta says.

Just then, Charmaine comes up to the table, her mother right behind her.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Grace says. "But Charmaine insisted on helping when I brought your order. So I let her carry the teacups."

Charmaine places the cups on the table, one in front of Katniss, the other in front of Peeta. Her mother lowers the teapot, and places a steaming bowl of roasted duck fried rice in front of Katniss. For a split second, no one says anything. Then Katniss flashes a smile at Charmaine and says, "Thank you." Charmaine smiles shyly back. Then, before her mother can lead her away, she sticks out a hand and tentatively touches Katniss's braid. "Pretty," she says.

The food (which smells delicious, damn you Peeta, Katniss thinks), the sweetly smiling child, the hesitant mother, and most of all the handsome man sitting across the table from her -- Katniss's nerves are lit. She can't move, much less rise from the table.

"She does have pretty hair," Peeta murmurs.

Charmaine turns to Peeta. "You married?" she asks.

"Charmaine!" Grace bursts out. "That is not polite!" She turns to Peeta and makes a little bow. "Sorry," she says to him, before turning to Katniss and repeating, "Sorry."

"It's all right," Peeta says, laughing. "To answer your question, Charmaine. No, I'm not married."

"Why not?" Charmaine asks.

"That's enough!" Grace says. She tugs Charmaine away from the table.

"Bye, Charmaine! It was nice meeting you!" Peeta calls after the mother and daughter. Then his gaze turns back to Katniss. The laughter in his eyes dies away. "Eat," he says. "Please. I'll be nice."

Katniss eats, with bad grace. It's hard with Peeta staring at her so intently.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was impolite to stare?" she says, finally, chewing with her mouth open (let's see if that gets to him, she thinks)

"I like women who have a hearty appetite," Peeta says, smiling.

(Ugh, Katniss thinks. That smile again. Her insides are unspooling)

"And, by the way?" he adds, leaning a little closer. "I think it's cute you're eating that way just to annoy me."


	70. THE BRIDE-ZILLA

The wedding to end all weddings. Where to start? There's the beautiful, devoted bride, trying her hardest to get Peeta's attention, and there's the groom, the famous plastic surgeon, entertaining an audience of celebrity clients that includes an Alioto, a Buchanan, and one of Larry Ellison's exes.

Peeta retreats to a quiet corner of the garden room. Should he chance another whiskey? He's dying for a sip, but it wouldn't do for him not to appear completely in charge and on top of things. Which is, he smirks, probably where the bride wants him to be.

She's eyeing him now over her bridal bouquet. Ugh. Peeta turns his back (hoping she'll get the hint, but it's not likely: she's smashed, probably started drinking even before the wedding)

He's thinking hard. In a few hours, he's meeting Katniss at a small place in Chinatown, Dragon Papa.

"What is that place?" he'd asked her at Grant's Palace. "I've never heard of it."

"They make threaded peanut candies," Katniss said with a smirk. "They do them right while you watch."

"Funny," Peeta said, "I never pegged you as the type to have a sweet tooth."

_Ouch! Don't kick yourself too hard for that, Peeta!_

"Well, I do," Katniss said, scowling. "Do you want to meet me there or not?"

"All right!" Peeta says (hardly able to contain his glee). "What time? I have a wedding to arrange, but . . . "

"How about tomorrow at five?" Katniss said.

"Five it is!" Peeta agreed. The reception would be over by then. And even if it wasn't, he could just slip out . . .

Their unexpected meeting at Grant's Palace was just yesterday. It had served, Peeta felt, to clear the air. Katniss wasn't really mad at him, just -- distant. Stupid paparazzi had caught him with a celebrity hanging off his arm. Not Honey, one of the Kardashians. Not Kim. Chloe? He couldn't remember which.

Katniss wasn't the only one suspicious. A few other women had called him to express their displeasure. But he had never been on dates with any of these women -- not since he'd met Katniss, anyway. They were simply at his hotel. He was accompanying them to the bar or to the dining room. His roaming days were over after Ocean. Nothing like being tied to a bed while naked to clear your mind of every smutty thought you'd ever entertained. He was now back to thinking smutty thoughts about only one woman, the one who wore her police uniform so loose it was practically hanging off her. She had a good figure, even though she tried hard to disguise it. He had seen that figure, why else would he desire it?

Someone is having a tantrum. Peeta's head snaps around. Ah! It's the beautiful bride. She's picked a baguette off a dining room cart and is aiming it at a photographer, one of the three she hired for the occasion.

"I said!" Honey shrieks. "No pictures while I'm eating! You know I hate seeing pictures of myself chewing!"

Not everyone has noticed the scene, but those who have are beginning to titter. And the last thing Peeta wants is a feature on that night's segment of TMZ.

He knows there's nothing for it: he has to thrust himself to the middle of this fray. He hurries forward with a brilliant smile that tells the world: I'm on top of this.


	71. DRAGON PAPA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I can't seem to stop adding bits to the last scene -- aargh!
> 
> I'm glad I was able to introduce a scene set in Dragon Papa, one of my FAVORITE candy stores in San Francisco.

And he is on top of this because, face it, he's Peeta Mellark: he's had a rough time the last year, but he's been through worse. Yes, he has certainly been through worse. His eyes darken as he walks. His mood is starting to slip. He sees the dirt on the sidewalks. They're the very same sidewalks he sees every day. Why is he getting so worked up? He's a little late. Bride-zilla had another tantrum. He left her in the care of his Assistant, a young woman, smart as a whip, but not used to the Princess of Nob Hill.

"Meeting someone?" she asks Peeta, noting his hurry.

"Umm -- " Peeta says, flustered.

"I hope so. Scram," she says, with a little laugh.

He picks up his pace, skirts a newspaper in the gutter. A quick glance: oh, another murder. Where? But he forgets the newspaper as soon as he lifts his head because he sees her. He has to stop, just to watch. She's wearing black yoga pants and grey sneakers. She's wearing a baseball cap but her hair's in its usual braid. Maybe she's been running because he can see trickles of perspiration on her neck. He is struck again by how gorgeous she is. How effortlessly gorgeous. No make-up at all but she could slay any woman in the wedding reception he's just fled.

She's looking at her phone and scowling. How he missed that scowl. He's never met a woman who does it with such -- energy.

Her mouth's turned all the way down now; she's upset. An apology rises to his lips. He sees her start to turn away.

"Katniss!" he yells.

The other people on the sidewalk -- an old couple with a little girl between them, the girl a little older than Charmaine -- startle. The old couple pull the girl back, holding tight to her shoulders, apprehension in their stance.

"I'm sorry," Peeta murmurs without stopping.

Katniss has stopped. She sees him. Is that relief he sees on her face? The expression vanishes; now she's back to scowling.

"I'm sorry," he says again. He's bending to plant a kiss on her cheek but she moves away. "The bride was having a fit."

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine, I know what a busy man you are," Katniss says.

Peeta chooses to ignore that last sentence. "Shall we go inside?" he asks. His heart is beating madly.

"Well, it's pretty crowded in there right now," Katniss says. "Why don't we just walk?"

"But I thought you wanted to eat something!"

"I did, but. I'm -- Let's just walk."

Something in Peeta resists. Some sense of gallantry -- where'd he get that from? His dad, the doormat? Bitterness rises in his throat. "I'd like to try some of this famous candy, if you don't mind?" he says. He sees a man in the window, a man pulling apart long strands of something white. His natural curiosity gets the better of him. He's never seen candy made like that before. "How does he do that?" Peeta murmurs.

A group comes out the door, laughing, one of them holding a white bag. Peeta thinks he hears someone say "dragon bear candy." He holds the door open for Katniss and, after a moment of hesitation, she passes in front of him.

Half an hour later, they're back on the sidewalk, each of them clutching identical small bags of candy.

"I can't believe this is a family that's had the business for five generations!" Peeta exclaims.

"Right? I've been coming here for a few weeks, and I've never gotten that guy to engage, he can barely even look at me when I place my order. Must be the suit," Katniss says.

"It was easy. All I had to do was ask him a few questions. He wanted to tell me about the history," Peeta says.

"Yeah, well -- " Katniss says. She's forgotten how easy everything is for him: women, money. That's why she decided --  months ago -- she wouldn't make it easy. She'd make sure he worked damn hard . . . "There's a park three or four blocks from here," she says.

"Oh, ah -- " Peeta says, and flushes. "I've finished all mine."

"What?" Katniss says. "How? We got five pieces each."

"I know. It's just -- " Peeta shrugs. "They were really good. They sort of just melted in my mouth."

Katniss almost bursts out laughing. Peeta looks suddenly self-conscious. It's the first time she's ever seen him as anything other than self-confident and suave. She says, "So. Green tea, huh? Now I know your secret." Her gaze wanders down. "And now you've got white stuff on your suit."

"I do?" Peeta says, looking down. "Oh."

"And, a moustache."

 _The man is frickin' adorable_ , Katniss thinks. _But, hands off, woman. Don't even think about it._

Peeta makes an ineffectual swipe at his face.

"Here," Katniss says. She traces Peeta's upper lip with her thumb. _His eyes, Oh, his eyes._

Peeta traps her hand with his. "Thanks," he says.

 


	72. FLASHBACK: WHEN KATNISS ENDED IT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. Thought I'd write about the last time Katniss and Peeta were together. Because I love angst.

A few days earlier, she'd seen Peeta. He looked damn fine. Wearing loose grey string pants, huaraches, a plain white T-shirt, straw basket slung over his shoulder. The little store had set out stands of mango, lychee, chestnuts on the sidewalk. Peeta walked right in, as if he knew exactly what he wanted.

Katniss was there to get a better feel for Ah-mah's world. Ah-mah's building was a block away; she often shopped at this small store, Grace told her. The last person she'd expected to see was Peeta.

It was around 9 in the morning, no tourists at all on the sidewalk, only the regulars, and Peeta. He didn't seem to be out of place.

Katniss thinks: _He's come here before._

She wondered whether to approach. No. She hung back. But she peered in the door and saw him at the far end of the room, talking to a young man and moving his hands.

Those hands!

He appeared to be describing something. Some delicacy. Some ingredient he could only find there. The person he was speaking to, a young man, listened intently and bobbed his head in understanding.

Katniss remembered a few months before. One of the last mornings she'd woken up in his apartment. She could hear him in the shower. On the floor, her clothes, his clothes, strewn carelessly around the bed. Was that when she thought, no?

He'd come back into the room, towel slung low around his narrow hips. He'd smiled, mildly perplexed to see her awake. Then, a beat later, "You all right?"

"Yeah," she'd croaked out. But she wasn't all right. She still wondered why he didn't ask her about the scars on her thighs, the marks so clearly not an accident: they were too symmetrical.

He had those marks, too, she was surprised to see. On his forearms. Longer than hers, traveling over his inner elbows.

"Staying?" he asked, an expression of muted skepticism on his face.

_What will happen to us, Peeta?_

"Please? I was going to make us pancakes."

_First there was Cato, and then Gale, and now you. And you might be the worst of all._

He seated himself beside her on the bed. "You're overthinking," he said softly. "I want you. So much." He pressed his lips to the overheated skin of her shoulder.

She wants to ask, _Why?_

He murmurs, against her shoulder, "Is it me you're seeing? Or the man you saw in my diaries? Those two are not the same person."

"You don't have to be afraid to say it," Peeta said. He ran a slim finger up the length of her thigh, across the scars.

She knew what to say. "I don't want this anymore," she said.

It was a lie. She was shocked at the look of misery on Peeta's face.

 _Shush_ , she remembered saying to herself in the elevator after leaving Peeta's apartment, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

* * *

There's a sudden, loud, crackling burst on the sidewalk. Katniss startles. A boy laughs, gazing at her, holding up a fistful of firecrackers, throwing them on the sidewalk, stepping on them. Katniss scowls. Asshole, she mutters. She moves off, not wanting Peeta to know she's made him.

"Katniss?" she hears him say, somewhere close.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I don't really explain, or maybe it's that Katniss can't really explain why her instinct with Peeta is to hide. But that's what she tries to do in this chapter.


	73. A REFRESHER: KATNISS'S BACKSTORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt there should be something to explain why Katniss is so mistrustful of Peeta (warring with her own heart).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the reader who pointed out that in Chapter 2 I have Katniss losing her virginity to Cato. I edited this chapter so that it's consistent with Chapter 2!

Katniss was never one for long relationships. She wasn't girlfriend material.

Growing up, she found that boys who called her were interested in one thing, and that one thing to the exclusion of all else.

At her part-time jobs -- places like Starbucks or Target -- she met any number of men. She never knew what attracted them, because she rarely smiled.

She remembered some heavy making out in the flickering darkness of an empty movie theater; the boy had bought her a Coke but it didn't taste right. She figured he might have slipped something in, something that made her feel loose and uncaring. He didn't seem to want to talk to her after. She doesn't even remember the movie -- something with cars and loud explosions. She thought the reason he'd asked her out was because she was smart. She thought he wanted to talk to her about English class or music. She thought it would be nice to have something to look forward to: a call, a text, something that made her feel chosen, special. But she got nothing of the kind. The boy was done with her.

She didn't know when she started cutting, and lying. She was extremely good at both. Her dad kept odd hours (he was a cop). The nights he'd come home late, her mother would be waiting up. They'd sit together in the kitchen, her father drumming his fingers lightly against the kitchen table, her mother's eyes flashing. They hardly spoke, they hardly needed to. Her mother and father were each other's one true loves. They didn't have to tell her; Katniss could see.

Now, it was almost 20 years since her father had been murdered -- shot in the line of duty -- but her mother never went out on dates. Her father was the last of his kind; why bother searching, why waste time?

Katniss's mother sank into a fog of grief that lasted years. When she roused herself from it, Katniss was an angry teen-ager with tattoos on her neck and arms, angry eyes, poor grades. Plutarch, who was her stand-in father, though he never tried to get Katniss's mother to fall in love with him, suggested police academy. He explained to her mother: "It will give her a challenge. That's what she needs: a challenge."

Of course, how could Plutarch have known about Cato.

Katniss shifts on her couch. She shouldn't have been so cold to Peeta, when she'd seen him at that store in Chinatown. It was Sunday; what was he doing there? A mom-and-pop grocery in Chinatown was the last place she expected to see him. His T-shirt looked freshly laundered, his pants looked soft and clean, and he was wearing sandals. Nice feet, she noted. Cared for. He was so impeccable, even in his lounging-around clothes. And he always smelled so good.

She fights off the memory. Peeta asked if she'd like to go see a concert, or a play. He was up for anything, really. That last remark, it made him flush. She flushed, too. They were like a pair of high school teenagers, standing there on the sidewalk. Her chest ached. She didn't want to put a name to what she was feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if I got some of this wrong, I haven't had time to re-read from the very beginning.
> 
> Also, I hate making her mom the "Bad Guy" and I hope that's not how it comes off here.
> 
> AND I know I've been letting the case of Ah-mah's murder move to the background while I maneuver through Everlark angst. It's taking me time to research police procedure etc. -- anyway, I'll be posting a new chapter within the week.


	74. PEETA AT A PARTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Katniss in this one, sorry. This chapter is just Peeta doing what he does best.
> 
> Sorry I left the Chinatown case dangling for so long. There's a bit of a connection in this chapter, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeta may seem like he's reverted to his old ways but he hasn't. Not even a little bit. 
> 
> I did want to remind myself of what he used to be. It's part of what makes him so good at his job. And I just enjoy writing from Peeta's point of view.
> 
> I just realized the chapter title has this onomatopeia thing going. lol

Peeta wears jeans to the party. Darker than his daytime pair, thinner. He knows that wearing these jeans is an open invitation to every woman in the room. But he doesn't really care.

He leans against a wall, the party's just getting started. Music pulses through his body. He chooses to contain his movements for the time being, he's really not that into dancing. Not into fucking, either. At least, not since Katniss.

Katniss.

Just then Chloe, the party's hostess, comes slinking over. She's married to that Venture Capitalist Tom McLaughlin, the one who has all of Silicon Valley eating out of his hand. Peeta knows that Chloe would like him to be part of her smiling lifestyle. He can't say he blames her (Wow, full of yourself much, Peeta?) But her eyes look weirdly similar to those of the panther she posed with on a recent Harper's Bazaar cover.

He told Katniss about the party. In fact, he invited her to be his plus one.

"I don't do parties, Mellark," Katniss told him. "Not parties like those, anyway."

"Why not?" Peeta says, wiggling his eyebrows at Katniss. "Beautiful people, open bar, what's not to love?"

She sticks her tongue out at him. His eyes go immediately to her mouth. Her lips are magnets and his are . . . he lowers his head. She moves away. Dammit!

Peeta compliments Chloe on her apartment, on the top floor of the tallest building in San Francisco. He tells her she looks beautiful tonight. She thanks him, then makes the sound of a doorbell with her mouth. Suddenly, Peeta's tired. He pushes against the wall and straightens. He murmurs "Later" to Chloe and steers himself carefully through the living room: bodies, ficus, tables, bodies. He has a long history of saying No to Chloe: pity to break that record.

He hears a burst of laughter and pauses. Curious, he begins to make his way over to the laughing group. But as soon as he starts to approach, they stop laughing. So he stops walking. Peeta's had it with this crap. A waiter waltzes by with a tray of -- "What is it?" Peeta asks. "Baba ghanoush," the waiter says. Peeta waves him away. Another waiter, having observed this exchange, waltzes by with a tray of carrot and celery sticks. Peeta helps himself to those. Then he searches for a bathroom. He badly needs a remedy to his current problem, which is thinking too much of Katniss. If he's lucky, he might stumble on a bathroom with a medicine cabinet. A couple of Xanax . . .

He finds a bathroom but no, no medicine cabinet. He looks in the mirror and is reassured. There are shadows under his eyes (he bumped into Katniss yesterday in Chinatown and couldn't sleep). Otherwise, he's not looking too shabby. He adjusts his jeans and with a heavy sigh returns to the party. He's really got to start turning down these types of invitations.

He finds the bar and asks for rum and pineapple juice. Downs that in two gulps, then asks for gin and vodka. It used to be his modus operandi prior to stalking his female target of the night. But now?

He looks around, sees an Asian woman in a black sheath dress. Ah! He starts thinking about Katniss's case. She hasn't told him much. Yet. He wants to help her.

Peeta finds a couch, not too far from the Asian woman. He wants to eavesdrop and learn; he's always been good at that. He remains at the party the rest of the night, turning down propositions right and left.

The party thins out. Peeta watches the panther-eyed hostess kissing a guy with the worst toupee he's ever seen in his life. He wants to go home but that will mean he'll start thinking about Katniss, and he doesn't need that. Not at the moment. Not when he's actually struck up a conversation with the Asian woman. She's part of a Chinese Historical Association. Her name is Heather.

Half an hour before midnight, Peeta heads home. Alone.


End file.
